Sunday 29 July 2018

YOU Crossed the Line

You
Crossed the Line

“That’s it. I’ve had it. Things must change.” 
Someone has reached the end of their patience. The situation could be a result of a long string of repeated offences or one very bad action. The frustrated response could be a measured change or an emotional over reaction. For a writer, the latter action opens the door for a wide range of possibilities. It makes a great hook for a story. A measured reaction in response to continuous undeserved treatment would be understandable and may even be expected. Response steps that depart from a character’s personality likely will lead the reader to see the power of the stress.



The latter strategy is one that I frequently use in my novel Baggage burdens. Jill is an honor student who normally thinks things through carefully. She chooses to run away from home because her alcoholic father frequently beats her. The failure of her previous actions to deal with her father’s mistreatment, confront him, call the police, lead her to a desperate move. Her stress-relieving action lacked planning. She had no place to sleep. It was not like her. 
Joseph, Jill’s husband, suffers from Jill’s frequent nagging about his long hours at work. Her cheap shots about his lack of love for his family cross the line. Her criticism under minds his integrity, so he chooses to leave her. It is a measured response. His decision is well thought out. He writes a letter to each of his children expressing his love for them. He informs his boss he’s quitting and finds a replacement for him. Joseph has a new place to move into and a new short-term contract job. 
Both characters come to a point in their life where someone has crossed the line. They cannot continue to live as they used. 


“Now, you can tell me what’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Jill is a little surprised at the concern in Dave’s voice.
“You know what I mean. When I asked you how things were going at home, your whole demeanor changed.”
The conviction in his voice tells Jill there is no point in denying there’s something wrong. His hand lightly touches her chin and slowly raises her head. He looks into her eyes. “It’s your old man, isn’t it?” 
Her dropped jaw answers his question. 
 “It’s that serious?”
Jill nods. “Only Robin knows.” With Dave’s nod, Jill believes he’ll keep her embarrassing secret. “I left home.”
“When?”
“This morning.” 
 “What are you going to do? Where you going to stay?” 
After hearing Jill’s arrangement with Robin, he is silent for a moment. “Only a temporary solution,” he adds thoughtfully.
“I’m thinking of seeing Gramma Maxwell,” she adds, looking down again.
“For a job?”
“Or a place to stay.”
Silence reigns between them. Jill feels like she is sitting under a heat lamp.

From the glove compartment, Joseph takes the brief handwritten letters, which he wrote to each of his children. He asked them to remember the special times they shared. It’s what he will do when he misses them. The letter ends with him telling them again he loves them very much. He asks them to forgive him for leaving. An envelope is placed on the pillow in each of the children’s rooms.

Joseph drives to the one-bedroom house he rented last night. The landlady wasn’t too keen on accepting him on such short notice. Joseph’s request for a month-to-month contract and a phone call to John Olsen for a reference helped. She remained hesitant until Joseph placed the first two months of rent in cash on the table before her. 
This isn’t my home. It won’t be either
Unpacking drags. Still some things need to be put away, even if it is only for a short time. Joseph forces himself to organize the place before he leaves for Martin Shopka’s. One last task—phone Daniel. Confirm he’ll still meet him there.  
By the time Daniel arrives, Joseph has taken all his tools from his truck and set them up in a space that Martin cleared for him in the workshop. 
“What do you think?” asks Joseph as he shows Daniel his compact work area.
“What’s going on?” Daniel’s surprise shows in his voice. “We weren’t going to start on Martin’s extension for another month.”
“That was before I decided I was going to quit working for Olsen Builders.” 
Daniel eyes widened. “What!”
“I called you here because I wanted to see if I could convince you to take my position.”
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” cuts in Daniel. “Why are you quitting?”
“Daniel, I’ve decided it’s not the job for me.


         haiku capsule:
too much to cope with
must change to save sanity
survival effort

                                                                                                          
Nextblog: Expression of Faith 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
What’s your strategy when you have been pushed too far?
I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Sunday 22 July 2018

Best Friend

Best Friend


What behaviors or personal traits makes a person a best friend? Does the friend’s age matter? Is the length of time that one knows another an important factor? Since best friends are human that means they are also flawed. How important is the dark side of character? 
In writing a story best friends open the door to sharing secrets that would normally remain hidden. Other than a family member they are the ones who could most be a source of comfort, spur a person to seek reconciliation or strive for a presumed unattainable goal. 
In my novel where personal relationships are very important, the role of best friend is critical. The protagonist in my book, Baggage burdens. has many friends, but for her, who qualifies as a best friend is someone she respects and can be completely trusted. For Jill, trust doesn’t come easy so her friends are really tested. In many cases the flaw in one’s character is usually enough to disqualify them as a best friend. While her expectations may seem a little unrealistic, she does experience the company of some people who she trusts to a very high degree. 
Discovering Jill’s best friend will lead the reader to the image that the author sees as one who is an outstanding friend. Hint: Jill’s husband, Joseph, has a friend with acceptable behaviors and character traits. 


Candidates for Jill’s best friend––Robin, school friend
Candidates for Jill’s best friend––Karen, Jill’s room mate
Candidates for Jill’s best friend––Mary, Jill’s employer
Candidates for Jill’s best friend––Joseph, Jill’s husband
Candidates for Jill’s best friend––Rebecca, her neighbor
Candidates for Jill’s best friend––or?

“Okay, Jill,” begins Robin in a low vice. “Now tell me everything that happened at home.” She leans over the little table to catch every word.
Jill looks around to see if it’s safe to reveal her burden. 
“Between the two of us?”
Robin raises her hand as if she’s swearing an oath in court. “Promise.”
“It’s my father. I can’t stay in the same house with him anymore. I have to leave. But I really don’t want to get into any details.” 
Reaching across the table and holding Jill’s hand, Robin persists. “Did he hit you?” 
Jill is silent. 
“Once you were absent for three weeks. I didn’t call you. I should have. When you came back, you avoided your friends. You even avoided me. I felt like you didn’t want me for a friend, because I wasn’t there for you. I don’t want that to happen again. I’d like to respect your privacy, but this sounds too serious. Now come on, fess up.” 

Karen raises her voice a bit. “Good. Because I have a question.” Karen waits for Jill to sit down. “When do you plan to phone and tell your grandmother you’re leaving?” 
Jill’s silent. 
“You are going to phone your grandmother, aren’t you?” Karen’s eyes narrow, piercing guilt. 
Again, Jill waits, then shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “I’m not,” she announces firmly.
“But, Jill, you can’t leave your grandmother in the dark.” Karen leans forward. “Not after all that she has done for you.” 
“I have no choice—” 
“But—” 
Karen’s objection is cut short.
“And you can’t tell her where I’ve gone either.” Jill hopes the firmness of her voice continues to secure Karen’s support.
“But why? You know your grandmother has your best interests at heart.”
Jill recalls how she failed to object when Josey first said she was bringing Dave. She had no doubt that Josey’s conversation with Mrs. Maxwell and Dave convinced her that she was doing the right thing. The chances of Jill winning that argument with her grandmother were very slim. 
Standing up, Jill proclaims, “Dave’s coming on Monday. Of that I have no doubt. Josey gave up coming to see me in the play on Saturday. She won’t be changing her mind about bringing Dave. There’s no point in talking to her about her decision. Dave’s coming Monday. By me saying nothing and just leaving, I’m avoiding a useless, emotional argument.” 
Karen stands up to look directly into Jill’s eyes. “But at least tell your grandmother why you left.”
Jill thinks for a moment. “Then you tell her that I couldn’t let Dave find me. In private. Nothing else.” Jill takes Karen by the shoulders. “And whatever you do, don’t tell her where I went. No one must know. Otherwise this whole effort will be for nothing. Promise?” Karen’s silence prompts Jill to do a gentle shoulder shake. “You’ve got to promise for this to work. Promise?” 
Reluctantly Karen gives in. 

Scanning the bakery’s white aluminum siding, Jill sees a large picture window with open blinds. Inside, two scruffy men sit at a little table drinking coffee. Afraid they might look at her, Jill turns her attention to the scaffolding cluttering the sidewalk. Seeing no tools or building materials on the metal skeleton, Jill guesses renovation work was interrupted. 
A cheerful voice reaches out from the bakery entrance. Mary Prezchuck calls out again. 
“You Jill Rezlay?” 
Mary’s heavy, waving arm and smiling face draw a smile from Jill. The large round lady fills the doorway. Her short brown hair closely hugs the contours of her head.
“Yes, I am.” Jill starts to approach her advancing host. 
Mary steps past Jill’s outstretched hand and hugs Jill.
“Welcome to Camrose.”

“Is my princess ready to be given away?” 
Ed’s voice comes as Jill twirls left and right, at first slowly and then quickly in front of her full-length bedroom mirror. 
Mary’s words when they drove from Edmonton after shopping for her dress rescue Jill. “Joseph is a very good man.” 
Mary’s right,she tells herself. Joseph is a good man. He doesn’t drink any alcohol. He’s not like my father.
During the drive back to Camrose, a conversation that Ed had with Jill last week returns. He’d come alone to her room, something he rarely did. 
 “You sure you want to move way out to the country? You know there’s hardly anyone out there to talk to.” In response to Jill’s quick assurance that she had Joseph to talk to, Ed added, “I only question your decision because when I watch you in the bakery, you seem so happy. You glow. It’s such a beautiful sight. You must really love Joseph.”
Ignoring Ed’s last comment, Jill teased Ed. “I bet you’ll miss me.”
“Yes, very much.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous of Joseph.” Jill had grinned as if she had caught Ed revealing more of himself than he intended.
For a moment, Ed too had turned red. After regaining his color, he said, “Joseph is a good man. He’ll treat you right. I just hope that you’ll be happy.”
Jill had hugged him and thanked him for worrying about her. 

On days when Joseph and Thomas go to market, Rebecca visits Jill. Jill’s pregnant, carrying Amber. In the beginning, Jill and Rebecca paint and decorate Amber’s room. Later they bake or go shopping. In the spring, Rebecca helps prepare the flower beds around the house. In midsummer, Jill’s energy drains substantially. Rebecca can’t convince Jill to see the doctor. Instead, Jill agrees to afternoon naps. 
Summer dissolves into fall. Rebecca catches Jill by surprise when she asks about plans for Jill’s son’s birthday party. Building on the success of last year’s party, Rebecca masterminds this year’s celebration. Jill asks that the party be at her place, not Rebecca’s. “It won’t be too much for me,” she insists. Rebecca sends out the invitations, purchases treats, and organizes games.

haiku capsule:
Always there for me 
Right or wrong, he supports me
My best friend ever
                                                                                                          
Nextblog: YouCrossed the Line

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
What are the most important characteristics of your best friend?
I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Sunday 15 July 2018

Agonizing Over Decisions

Agonizing 
Over Decisions


If you want to show tension in a story, choose a circumstance where a character agonizes over a past decision as opposed to one that needs to be made.  For all the synonyms for agonize, struggles, suffers, I like torture or torment yourself the best. If you have ever been torn between choosing which one of two very important values to follow, then you know how challenging that can be. However, once a decision is made and can’t be reversed it is done. Now, live with it. Get on with your life. The torture is over. 
Not so when a person has difficulty accepting their past decision even if it can’t be changed. Here the torture begins with no end in sight. Starving for that second-best choice means peace is absent. What other possible solutions could there have been? Is there any way that the missing value can yet be regained? Must I settle for memories of what was and what could have been? 
Let’s make this torturous situation concrete. A husband asks his wife, “What would most make you happy?” Her answer, “to move to the city.” In my book, Baggage burdens. Joseph must whether to give up living on the farm where he has spent most of his adult life. Family memories and multiple successes and friends tug a Joseph’s heart. What chance does his wife have? And yet he once said his wife was the most important thing in his life. The possibility of having to choose between the two had never entered his mind. 
However, his struggle is nowhere as tormenting as Jill’s. Jill chose to leave her loving and very able grandmother and move far away to a place where she knew no one. On the surface Jill’s action seems unreasonable. And in part she senses she made a mistake, but another value has greater importance––safety. At play here is the love of Josie, her grandmother, and by Jill’s own words, the heavenly home provided for her by Josie. This is countered by Jill’s fear of what might happen if she stayed. Jill intuitively knows she didn’t give her grandmother a chance to keep her safe. All Jill can do is remember the respect she has for Josie and the joy she had spending the summer in Josie’s mansion. Recapturing that situation teases her frequently.

 In the first of the two excerpts below sample the tug of Joseph’s farm life. In the second read of Jill’s regret of leaving her grandmother, a feeling that haunted her for more than twenty years.


Joseph’s offer to do something to make Jill happy obligates a response. Hoping to hide his concern, he looks down.
The long silence, too long in Joseph’s mind, ends with him pleading, “I’ll need some time to think about this.” Jill’s hand lightly touches his shoulder. He looks up at her.
“This is no demand,” she says gently. “You asked what would make me happy.” After Joseph nods, she adds, “There’s no rush on this. Still, it would make a wonderful birthday present.” She flashes a smile and ducks as if she is about to be hit over the head. “I think I hear Matt.”
Joseph doesn’t hear anything. Her request has blocked everything else out.
Jill pushes her chair away and escapes to the house. 
For five minutes, Joseph fidgets on the lounger. Bottled energy needs to be released. He walks down the driveway. His foot kicks a lone loose stone, knocking the memory of Robert Pashka spreading a load of crushed three-quarter-inch rock on his then soft, muddy driveway. Three springs in a row, Robert brought and spread a load. He didn’t charge once. Robert said his boss owed him a favor. The driveway is a firm, packed surface now even when a heavy rains falls. I never repaid him, thinks Joseph.
As Joseph meanders east down his two-hundred-yard driveway, a six-foot-diameter tractor tire jogs another memory. Evan Starzak’s wife bugged him about the tires littering their place. Joseph agreed to take them off Evan’s hands if he could take all five. Joseph placed them in forty-foot intervals near his driveway. He planted a tree in each tire—three apple trees, a crab apple tree, and a flowering plum. They all took. Joseph’s theory that the soil in the tires would hold water during dry spells proved correct on two hot summers. Joseph sold his apples and crab apples at the market. As a joke every year, he brought a pail of apples for Evan and his wife to show them what they were missing out on. Joseph stands on the driveway admiring the trees.
When his eyes rest on the eighteen-year-old workshop, history grabs ahold of his heart. A dry, wooden single-car garage had served his Uncle Mike as a toolshed for years. The second fall that Joseph lived on this farm, the shed burned down. Thomas came to investigate. All he saw was a heap of charred remains. He guessed that when Joseph was burning his garbage, the wind carried live sparks. They landed on the dry grass. The shed immediately caught fire. Joseph was thankful no machines or other buildings burned. Having forgotten to purchase insurance on the building and its contents, he found himself with no money to rebuild the shed and buy new tools. He questioned whether he should continue to farm.
Within two weeks, a dozen men from the church pulled into his yard. Two trucks hauled lumber, and a third carried cement, sand, and other supplies. Before Joseph could ask what was going on, Thomas hopped on Joseph’s tractor and scraped open an area for a twenty-six by twenty-four-foot garage. Men began setting up frames for a pony wall while others prepared to mix cement. Within three days, Joseph had a new garage. He marveled at the generosity of the community. 


The next morning, Karen and Jill eat an early breakfast. They load the vehicle. As Karen drives away, the full reality of Jill’s plan hits her. I’m leaving the only place I ever really felt safe, felt loved.A desperate “Wait a minute” escapes Jill’s lips.
“Second thoughts?” whispers Karen. 
Jill turns around, looks out the back window, and soaks in the morning sunlit driveway and her grandmother’s house. She absorbs the memories of her summer at Josey’s house. After a couple of minutes, Jill readjusts herself in the passenger’s seat.
Karen ventures a hesitant, “You ready?” 
Jill nods, afraid her voice will expose her sorrow and leave her vulnerable to reassessing her decision. Nervously, Jill steals a glance at her driver 
Karen leaves the radio off as she drives to the railway station. The silence, an opportunity to hear a crack in Jill’s resolve, doesn’t come. Together at the train station Jill purchases her ticket. 
Karen carries a taped cardboard box holding Jill’s notes and books from school and the Brick Theatre. Partially hidden beneath a white string, wrapped more times than is necessary around the cardboard box, is a small photo album of Jill’s three-month stay at her grandmother’s place. It rests securely at the top of the box where Jill can easily see it. 
Jill notices Karen focusing on her album.
Karen guesses. “A history of the days at your grandmother’s?” 
“Just special memories.”
“You’re like your grandmother. You both love the place. Maybe it’ll bring you back.”
“Not likely.” Jill initiates a short goodbye, afraid her resolve will fail. Karen leaves, looking back once. It’s the last time she sees her good friend. 
Jill boards the train and sets her carry-on bag containing some apples, some oranges, sandwiches, and a few cans of apple juice on the seat beside her, hoping it will prevent anyone from sitting next to her. The window seat provides maximum exposure to the sun’s warm rays, a needed comfort. The seat reclines just as Karen said it would. With her eyes closed, she imagines being back on her grandmother’s balcony, lying on the lounger, soaking up the sun’s rays. The clickity-clack, clickity-clack of the train’s wheels assures her there is no chance of turning back. The gentle rocking invites a nap.
After almost an hour on the train, the coach door slams with a bang like a student deliberately dropping a book on the floor for maximum effect. Jill hears the noise but doesn’t stir.
A familiar, annoying, male growl denounces her. “Bone head! You don’t deserve anyone’s love.” 
Jill’s felt truth muzzles her from attacking her dream-accuser. She replays the image of Karen’s disappointed look when she told her friend that she wouldn’t reconsider meeting with Dave. At least she understands. Karen’s “You ready?” at the driveway and her last hopeful glance at the train station strengthen Jill’s feeling that she doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. The choice to miss Josey’s hugs deepens the accuser’s damning charge. 


haiku capsule:
wrong choice suspected
too late to reconsider
hope voices “maybe not.”
                                                                              
Nextblog: Best Friends

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
What’s your worst example of second guessing yourself?
I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.
All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Sunday 8 July 2018

Arresting Mistreatment

Arresting Mistreatment




If you see someone being mistreated, do you make an attempt to stop the abuse? To answer this question, you might want to consider the context of let’s say an emotional and physical unacceptable behavior––a family setting with a father who comes home after having had too much to drink.  
A first response may very well be, if it is a family problem, the family should deal with it. Even when acting under the wisdom that says confront the father when he is in a sober state, the bread winner holds the trump card. His denial ends reform. Seeking outside help is difficult. For the wife, it means admitting she isn’t loved as much as a bottle. Embarrassing. What did she do to cause her devaluation? For a child, it must deal with the ugly perception that they it is bad and thus not worthy or love. 
What can be done? Members outside of the immediate family are often aware, even vaguely aware of trouble. They are most in the position to counter the psychological damage that says they are not worthy. That opens the door for seeking professional help. Of course, such outside interference may be strongly challenged. There is a risk in intervening, but is stepping up for an injured hurting party worth it?
Perhaps when one knows the potential cost of looking the other way it would be easier to answer the last question. That is the purpose of my book, Baggage burdens. One expects emotional upheaval, (anger, fear, hurt) after a daughter is beaten up by her alcohol-fueled father. It may be suspected that the emotional turmoil lasts longer than it takes for the physical healing to take place. What isn’t expected is that psychological damage may last for years and that those psychological injuries may cause emotional pain to others. That is the case for the protagonist, Jill, in Baggage burdens. Her struggles were inspired by a real-life woman. While many ineffective actions were taken as is shown by the next two excerpts, only one turned out to be effective and that was not a decision initiated by Jill.

Police were called again. Warnings were issued. Promises were made. Three weeks passed before Jill’s bruises disappeared and she dared to face her classmates.

“Once you were absent for three weeks. I didn’t call you. I should have. When you came back, you avoided your friends. You even avoided me. I felt like you didn’t want me for a friend, because I wasn’t there for you. I don’t want that to happen again. I’d like to respect your privacy, but this sounds too serious. Now come on, fess up.” 
Jill’s eyes water. She looks down and tries to muffle her crying. Within seconds, Robin is out of her chair and sliding beside her friend. She lightly wraps her arm around Jill’s shoulders and draws her close. Jill momentarily tenses. 
“Did you call the police?”
Jill pauses. “Last night, he was so mean. You can’t call the police for that.” Jill considers what to tell her friend.
“Jill?”
Jill nods. “Before. We called a couple of months ago,” she whispers. Jill wipes the tears away with tissue that Robin pulls out of her little clutch purse. 
“And?”
Still afraid her voice is going to break into a more audible cry, she shakes her head. “It did no good.” 
“What happened last night?” 
Feeling uncomfortable with Robin’s persistence, Jill edges away slightly. How can I tell Robin my father beats my mother because of me? How can I tell her I’m the reason my mother doesn’t like me? She shakes her head.
“Jill, there are counselors at school, at church, in …” 
Robin cuts off her words when Jill takes a huge breath. Before Jill can burst out crying, Robin sits back. Jill relaxes a little. In a slow, deliberate voice just loud enough for Robin to hear, Jill says, “I’m not going back … ever.”



haiku capsule:
hard to cry out, “Help,”
assistance is out of reach
call for aid unheard
                                                                              
Nextblog: Agonizing Over Decisions

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
An offer to help before it is asked for is out of place. Right?
Perhaps the real question here is who most needs the help?
I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.



All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Sunday 1 July 2018

Book Launch

BOOK LAUNCH


Two weeks ago, I celebrated the availability of my book, Baggage burdens. I had my book launch. I opened “with let me tell you about a very memorable woman, an attractive intelligent woman who loves children. She sounds like just the person you would want to be the protagonist in the novel, one who the reader would pull for. However, this special woman, Jill, has a haunting problem, the memory of an alcoholic father who frequently beat her up, beat her up so much that she chose to run away from home before completing her grade 12 year. While you might suspect that the reader will be one hundred percent on her side as she struggles with the after effects of those childhood experiences, the Blue Ink review refers to her as a mentally disturbed woman, one for whom a reader would find hard to sympathize."
Why, you might wonder, would readers not be on her side. The answer is that this is also a story about her family and close friends and the struggles they are forced into because of the mental makeup of the protagonist. Jill’s friends and her family do not deserve the mistreatment that they receive from her. A reader’s heart is pulled toward her family and friends many times. Who then does the writer want you to feel for? 
The answer is both. No one deserves to suffer, because of a father’s seemingly self-centered action of consuming alcohol excessively. Having said that, the reader is deliberately tested to see if, knowing the protagonist’s past, can they forgive apparent unreasonable actions. After all, Jill didn’t choose to be the subject of beatings by a man who should have been her loving protector. 
I invite you to taste a bit of Jill’s haunting memory and then a sample of her defense-driven actions that challenges someone close to her. In the first excerpt below Alice is Jill’s mother.

Alice’s reference ignites the fear Jill hoped to permanently suppress. Three months earlier, overflowing with confidence from her year of weight training and the school’s women’s defensive course, Jill confronted her drunken father in the kitchen. She dared to challenge his behavior. Result: a neck-jarring slap in the face. With pent-up fury, Jill delivered a similar action. 
Her father exploded. 
Jill deflected his first swing. More swiftly followed. His first direct hit landed Jill on the floor. Her single opportunity to escape resulted in him grabbing her hair and yanking her back. Sitting on her, he slapped her left and right again and again until Alice struck his head with a cast-iron frying pan. Police were called again. Warnings were issued. Promises were made. Three weeks passed before Jill’s bruises disappeared and she dared to face her classmates.

Jill dives into her other questions. 
Karen says, “Yes, purchase a ticket for a comfort seat; it’s a two-day trip; the train leaves in the morning; bring nonperishables for eating; yes, food can be purchased on the train; use a taxi from the railway station to the Greyhound bus station in Edmonton, and in Camrose, take a taxi from the Greyhound bus depot to the Prezchucks’ place. No, the driver knows where it is.”
“Any more questions?” Karen’s voice is calm. 
Jill shakes her head and stands up.
Karen raises her voice a bit. “Good. Because I have a question.” Karen waits for Jill to sit down. “When do you plan to phone and tell your grandmother your plans?” 
Jill’s silent. 
“You are going to phone your grandmother, aren’t you?” Karen’s eyes narrow, piercing guilt. 
Again, Jill waits, then shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “I’m not,” she announces firmly.
“But, Jill, you can’t leave your grandmother in the dark.” Karen leans forward. “Not after all that she has done for you.” 
“I have no choice—” 
“But—” Karen’s objection is cut short.
“And you can’t tell her where I’ve gone either.” Jill hopes the firmness of her voice continues to secure Karen’s support.
“But why? You know your grandmother has your best interests at heart.”
Standing up, Jill proclaims, “By me saying nothing and just leaving, I’m avoiding a useless, emotional argument.” 
Karen stands up to look directly into Jill’s eyes. “But at least tell your grandmother why you left.”
Jill thinks for a moment. “Then you tell her. In private. Nothing else.” Jill takes Karen by the shoulders. “And whatever you do, don’t tell her where I went. No one must know. Otherwise this whole effort will be for nothing. Promise?” Karen’s silence prompts Jill to do a gentle shoulder shake. “You’ve got to promise for this to work. Promise?” 
Reluctantly Karen gives in.

haiku capsule:
someone very special
needs forgiveness many times
understanding friend
                                                                              
Nextblog: Arresting Mistreatment

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
How many times can you forgive a person for their indiscretions?
I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.
All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.