Community News: Dec. 15 and Dec. 17, 2018

Check out upcoming events and the awesome things people are doing.

Gotta Do It: Dec. 16 through Dec. 23 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/gotta-do-it-dec-16-through-dec-23/apnt20r/

Local pet events: Dec. 17 through Dec. 24 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/16/local-pet-events-dec-17-through-dec-24/a729ik/

Pets of the Week: Dec. 17 

Click on the caption of each pet to learn more.

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/10/07e0b7293a484e27b17b34718eb6454d/index.xml

Delta: On long flights, leave your support animal at home 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/delta-on-long-flights-leave-your-support-animal-at-home/asg1xz5/

Joliet Central High School hosts Human Services and Arts and Communication Preview Days

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/02/joliet-central-high-school-hosts-human-services-and-arts-communication-preview-days/afbgb4d/

JTHS Alumni Spotlight: Chris Braggs

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/02/jths-alumni-spotlight-chris-braggs/aezn36y/

District 202 in Plainfield names Illinois State Scholars

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/03/district-202-in-plainfield-names-illinois-state-scholars/a23elyi/

Joliet Central High School speech team places third at Morris High School tournament

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/04/joliet-central-high-school-speech-team-places-third-at-morris-high-school-tournament/amwbmke/

Troy students celebrate Illinois’ birthday 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/07/troy-students-celebrate-illinois-birthday/a7nlo2d/

Troy fourth-graders collect coats for kids, Joliet organizations 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/07/troy-fourth-graders-collect-coats-for-kids-joliet-organizations/apqp20e/

Frankfort eighth-graders learn about local government 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/07/frankfort-eighth-graders-learn-about-local-government/argcjw8/

Veterans’ Assistance Commission partners with Community Service Council of Northern Will County

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/14/veterans-assistance-commission-partners-with-community-service-council-of-northern-will-county/a409yn7/


Sign up for the Will County Go Guide

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/will-county-go-guide/#//


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http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/locallit/


Sign up for The Munsonville Times

https://www.bryonyseries.com/munsonville-times

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage." Follow him at www.facebook.com/artbymattcoundiff 

A Very BryonySeries Christmas: Excerpt No. 5

This excerpt is from the second book of Before the Blood, scheduled for a March 2019 release.

Not until John's breathing and heart rate became slow and erratic, did Kellen force himself to stop and run for the Bordeaux. He pried open John's mouth, poured in the wine, waited, and poured again.

Nothing happened.

Kellen slapped John, and shook John, and dumped the rest of the wine down John's throat.

With a gurgle,  the wine bubbled back out.

WHAT TO DO???

            "What do you want from me?

            "You'll let me know," Dr. Gothart had said. "When the time comes, you'll let me know."

            

He didn't need creepy Dr. Gothart, damn it!

Kellen dragged John onto the bed and rang for help.

"He's sick," Kellen told the hotel doctor.

The doctor quickly infused John with a saline solution while Kellen looked on, anxiously wringing his hands.

"I have no medical explanation for it, but he's lost a significant amount of blood," the doctor said. "He's lucky to be alive."

The repercussions of Kellen's gluttony were slow to reverse. For weeks, John lay in bed, wan and listless, while Kellen coaxed spoonfuls of broth between lips too weak to respond.

Every few days, the doctor repeated the saline infusions.

Summer left; fall replaced it, and Kellen worried that John might never improve. Feasting was the only time Kellen ever left John's side, and, even then, he delayed departure until hunger drove him out.

The fire burned low, and shadows danced on the walls.

"Mamma!"

John opened his eyes. Damp locks plastered John's wet cheeks; the bedclothes clung to his naked skin; his gaze darted wildly until they rested on Kellen, who was trickling water into a glass from the bedside pitcher.

The vulnerability in John's eyes ebbed away, and a chilling coldness crept in.

Anxiously, Kellen pressed the rim against John's lips. "Drink."

John drank to the end of the glass. He then drifted into restless sleep and dozed most of the next day, not really asleep, but not really awake either.

In desperation, Kellen wired for Henry. But Henry, with the Kings, had left for the States.

So Kellen played sentinel, chewed the remaining skin off his knuckles, and fretted.

Kellen played caregiver. He bathed John, toileted John, dressed John, and worried.

Kellen played nursemaid. He dispensed food, drink, medicine, and tonic.

Gradually, so excruciatingly gradually, the color crept back into John's complexion. John's stare remained icy.

"He needs to leave that bed," the doctor said one day, after listening to John's heart. "He'll be a permanent invalid if he doesn't."

So Kellen now propped John in a chair for a few hours each day. After a couple of weeks, Kellen walked a reluctant John across the room. Fall's temperatures fell from chilly to cold. In the late afternoons, Kellen prodded John outside.  John didn't resist.

But neither did he cooperate.

What if...?

What if John never let him drink again?

It was a real fear.

For John didn't care, not about music, not about anything. The baby grand still ruled the suite, except now it sat forlorn and silent. John's eyes, seething with loathing and contempt, followed Kellen.

If John didn't care, their bond was broken. Kellen's hold over John was broken. John's consent was withdrawn.

And Kellen's greed had done it.

The Kings? Who cared about Jacob King?

Not Kellen.

He recalled the question he had asked John, the night they had contracted each other's services.

            . "Mr. Simons, how would you like to be the premiere musical artist throughout all western civilization?’

              "Like it?" John choked on the wine. "I'd die for it."

A dead pet was a useless pet. But so was one who had given up.

Kellen watched John writhe at night and pondered.

He ate children and drank from their parents and devoured whole villages and pondered.

During the day, when the hired nurse sat with John, Kellen reposed beneath the hotel and pondered until dormancy overtook awareness.

He pondered and pondered and pondered.

Kellen searched John's mind for clues.

On the streets, Kellen overheard "goose" and "Frumenty" and "snapping crackers."

César Ritz was happy to oblige.

On Tuesday, Kellen instructed the nurse to keep John mellow all day, insisted on several naps, and then bathed and dressed him for a night out. He ordered up a supper of creamed fish and toast.

John's eyes opened wide when Kellen whisked off the silver lid, but he ate.

At ten o'clock, Kellen brought John a large cup of coffee.

It was only a mile to St. Margaret's, but Kellen had ordered a carriage anyway. T'would be a long night; why needlessly exhaust his pet?

The merest flicker of interest passed over John's face at the sight of the Gothic structure, and Kellen took it. Grasping John's arm. Kellen led John up the stairs and inside the candlelit church, Latin all around.

Kellen bowed his head. To his surprise, so did John.

Confíteor Deo omnipoténti, beátæ Maríæ semper vírgini, beáto

Michaéli archángelo, beáto Joánni Baptístæ, sanctis apóstolis Petro et

Paulo, ómnibus sanctis, et vobis fratres, quia peccávi nimis cogitatióne,

verbo, et ópere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

Kellen gently beat his chest. John gently beat his chest.

But it was the hymns, oh it was the hymns, especially the beautiful O Iesu dulcis, O Iesu pie, O Iesu, fili Mariae that infused John's soul and slowly, slowly, slowly woke John up.

The hardness around John's mouth softened.

His rigid frame relaxed its hold.

His fingers, firmly clasped behind his back, slackened ever-so-slightly.

John spurned the return carriage for a leisurely walk back to the Savoy. As John walked, he sang under his breath:

Adeste, fideles, laeti triumphantes:

Venite, venite in Bethlehem:

Venite adoremus.

Venite adoremus.

Venite adoremus Dominum.

John didn't comment on the suite's transformation: The Scots pine in the corner bedecked with colored glass and the many candle stubs Kellen carefully lit.

Instead, John wearily sank into a chair and noted the many covered dishes.

Nor did John comment as he peeped under silver lids,. But he poured another cup of coffee and ate the French omelets, hot buttered toast, buckwheat cakes, creamed potatoes and creamed sweetbreads, oyster pie, and assorted jellies. He drank claret punch until drowsiness overtook him.

Kellen helped him to the bed and pulled off his shoes.

At brunch, John ate French onion soup, mutton chops, and fried apples. At dinner, John picked at the sage and onion stuffed goose and let other food be.

"Too full," was John's only comment.

John retired early. For the first time in many weeks, John truly seemed to sleep. His breathing was even; he didn't squirm and toss. In gratitude, Kellen didn't kill until after midnight, allowing his prey to enjoy their final holiday.

Kellen entered the suite in the hour before dawn. John, silk bathrobe tied around a frame that needed beefing up, was playing O Holy Night. Kellen leaned against the door, exhaustion from many watchful months overtaking him.

"Merry Christmas, John."

John did not answer, but Kellen did not mind.

His musician was back.

 Photo by Timothy Baran

Something That Lasts

When I was a little girl, my parents had a console stereo system someone built from a kit as a wedding present to them.

Anyone my age or older remembers them: you added a stack of records, and when one came to the end, another dropped onto the first. That way, one could play hours of music without having to change the record.

Although my parents had a number of Christmas albums, the same half dozen or so was always the ones they played. My sister and I listened to them year after year and they became a tradition of Christmas music for us and our children.

My first husband recorded them on his reel-to-reel so it could play constantly in the background for weeks. My sister borrowed the records from my parents and recorded them on cassette, for herself, for her family, and for my children when they scattered, for they, too, had grown up with the exact set of music we did.

While out walking tonight, I listened to one of them, courtesy of Google music. The recording artist (John Gary) died years ago, and I am probably older now than he was when he recorded that album. I began reflecting, although it's not a new reflection, on how the words we write, the music we record, the art we created, can be enjoyed in perpetuity by generations who follow us.

Oh, and by the way, I finished editing the proof copy of the first installment of Before the Blood and made the changes in the manuscript. If the rest of the evening goes well, I'll upload it tonight.

Now, I'm not even going to compare my scribbling with Dickens or Dumas.

But it amazes me that an idea that begins in my imagination can wind up in another's imagination, even if I never meet that person.

And that their ideas wind up in mine.

It's incredible really, if one ponders it.

Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."

Halfway Through...

...the proof copy of the first installment of Before the Blood.

Considering how busy the weekend was/is, I'm surprised I've made it this far.

I did cover and event today. I also ran errands and enjoyed my annual Cracker Barrel dinner tonight with Rebekah Baran (We share a feast day in December, so it's been a tradition since she was very young).

I do have work to finish tonight and work tomorrow. And I'm understepped and let both weights and yoga slide the last couple days. Nor have we swapped out the recipe on Sue's Diner. (How do people have time to get bored? I can't ever seem to get it all done!)

BUT, the first book is right on schedule and who knows? Maybe it will be available in early January instead of late January.

In the meantime, Colleen Robbins is editing the second installment, so by the time we have one done, I'll be working on the next. And so it shall go through September.

BTW, the second Adventures of Cornell Dyer book (Cornell Dyer and the Necklace of Forgetfulness) is also available on Amazon (so far).

And now, with a cup of dark roast in a white cup with blue snowflakes right beside me, it's back to work.

Community News: Dec. 14, 2018

Check out upcoming events and the awesome things people are doing.

Local arts and entertainment: Dec. 14 through Dec. 21 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/12/local-arts-and-entertainment-dec-14-through-dec-21/ahs4jfi/

Santa Sightings

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/12/santa-sightings/amihaht/ 

Author speaks at Romeoville school 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/10/18/author-speaks-at-romeoville-school/agqno01/

'Santa' story teaches Troy students about giving 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/santa-story-teaches-troy-students-about-giving/awuduca/

Festival of Lights Light Show in Bolingbrook through Dec. 31 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/festival-of-lights-light-show-in-bolingbrook-through-dec-31/azkxvj/

Troy Heritage Trail students Skype with Global Read Aloud author

Author Elana K. Arnold takes questions from students 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/troy-heritage-trail-students-skype-with-global-read-aloud-author/a4efb0b/

Nothing Bundt Cakes fundraiser for Silver Cross Hospital in New Lenox

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/nothing-bundt-cakes-fundraiser-for-silver-cross-hospital-in-new-lenox/apdvmgw/

Joliet church hosting Christmas bake sale 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/joliet-church-hosting-christmas-bake-sale/a99d0z2/


Sign up for the Will County Go Guide

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/will-county-go-guide/#//


Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story Newsletter

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/locallit/


Sign up for The Munsonville Times

https://www.bryonyseries.com/munsonville-times

Illustration by Christopher Gleason for "Staked!" Follow him at www.artworkbytopher.com.

Story Round-Up: Features in The Herald-News, Dec. 9 through Dec. 14

It's here!!!!

I'm talking about the proof copy for the first installment of the BryonySeries prequel Before the Blood.

The little box was waiting for me when I came home from dinner with a friend last night. Yes, it needs a little tweaking here and there. But the concept came out perfectly!

The cover's matte finish and design give it an old dusty finish. The font reminds me of the font in my mother's childhood books that I also read as a child.

I've been working on this project so long (2010), it's a little surreal to finally see it come together.

Over the next week and a little at a time, I'll comb through it very carefully. Despite a few glitches here and there, we are right on schedule.

Now, here's where to find information and after that, the stories.

Non-bylined features:

Monday through Saturday I assembled my non-bylined works - brief posts and calendar listings - into one convenient file and posting them on Facebook in the evening, so readers can easily choose the ones they want to read.

One can also find those event listings, the Gotta Do It calendar, as well as the pets, health, faith, and arts and entertainment calendars, under the sections tab on the left hand side of http://www.theherald-news.com/. Click on "features" and the topics drop down.  Gotta Do It runs under "people."

Community news? Again, under the sections tab, under features, and by topic. Updates are posted on these days in print and web (and some only on web on other days as I have the time): Monday (pets), Tuesday (health), Thursday (faith), Friday (arts and entertainment), and Sunday (people).

 Social media:

Daily updates: I do post the briefs and calendars on Twitter during the week, so you're welcome to follow me at @Denise_Unland61.

BryonySeries stuff: I post curated content relating to the BryonySeries at @BryonySeries. And assorted related content at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries. And of course, please follow the adventures of Bertrand the Mouse on Instagram at bertrand_bryonyseries.

If you're a writer anywhere in the world, you're welcome to jon WriteOn Joliet's Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/writeonminooka/?ref=bookmarks. We're based in Joliet, Illinois, but we love to meet and interact with writers outside our area, too.

Upcoming events:

These are listed here: https://www.bryonyseries.com/fetes-and-feasts.

Books and Such

Information on my books (including where to buy) along with upcoming events is at www.bryonyseries.com.

Thank you for reading The Herald-News. And for reading this blog. And if you've read (or plan to read) any of my books. Your support is greatly appreciated.

Joliet center has gotten into his heart

"There's nothing more rewarding than helping someone with disabilities," Larry Burich, interim director of the Center for Disabilities in Joliet, said. "If there's something more rewarding, I haven't found it."

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/04/de4fb188200c4c589e52f12cba1953fd/index.xml

An Extraordinary Life: 'So much courage and optimism'

Thomas Lambert of #Channahon is planning a 'family' run to promote liver health

"While my mom was not a runner, the last handful of years of her life, was as if she was finishing the last few-kilometers of a marathon. In my simple estimation, she won the gold," Tom, 64, wrote in an email.

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/04/5449e1bc812b41ddbd1d6af9380860d6/index.xml

 A variety of books for all the students

United Way of Will County Women United begin Read to Succeed program

 “We don’t worry about them [the books] getting returned,” said Diane Cepela, superintendent of Fairmont School District 89. “Sometimes the preschoolers take them home, and we don’t get them back, and we’re perfectly fine with that. We just want to get reading material into the hands of the students.”

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/05/08f14a49d2424df2ba816a4aef4e5db8/index.xml


'Charming and lovely people'
Leader of Joliet pagan group attends interfaith parliament in Canada  

"There was all sorts of workshops and services," Sandy Costa said. "You could go to a Sikh worship or a pagan worship or a Catholic Mass. And they [the parliament] as an interfaith group, come up with statements on different issues, like climate change and inclusion. People who are parliament members sign onto these statements."

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/11/1d9391bf2e144d079a4b5b6516b3be8d/index.xml

 Can you solve the mystery in 1 hour?

Escape room at Dellwood Park in Lockport is available until May 5

There is a serial killer on the loose. And you are her next victim.

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/11/9726a025e4db40e7b2dab30e70b4d5be/index.xml

Artworks: All for the love of books and reading

I'm always a little perplexed when kids don't like to read. Some of the most happiest hours of my childhood – and my adulthood – have been spent between the pages of a good book.

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/13/artworks-all-for-the-love-of-books-and-reading/alhz0e1/

LocalLit author spotlight: Bill Herring of Romeoville

Herring said: "I have kept a couple of spiral notebooks consisting mostly of of poems to my grandchildren, heart-warming adventures about my grandson Will and Papa Bill, letters to friends in story form, some stories about days gone by and some fictional things.

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/12/locallit-author-spotlight-bill-herring-of-romeoville/aap364o/

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage." Follow him at www.facebook.com/artbymattcoundiff 

Community News: Dec. 13, 2018

Check out upcoming events and the awesome things people are doing.

Local faith events: Dec. 13 to Dec. 20 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/12/local-faith-events-dec-13-to-dec-20/a526kve/

Plainfield school held golf outing

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/05/plainfield-school-held-golf-outing/abf21dm/

Lockport students attend technology conference 

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/11/30/c5a961e7be524378a8a1a924d320d68a/index.xml

Joliet Catholic Academy announces November Students of the Month

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/04/285ff9e6090c451f99221f153a2c42e9/index.xml

Joliet senior performed at writers conference

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/11/01/joliet-senior-performed-at-writers-conference/apokw8d/

Sign up for the Will County Go Guide

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/will-county-go-guide/#//


Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story Newsletter

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/locallit/


Sign up for The Munsonville Times

https://www.bryonyseries.com/munsonville-times

Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."

A Very BryonySeries Christmas: Excerpt No. 4

This except is from the first book of Before the Blood, which is scheduled for a January 2019 release.

FYI, as the relationship is not clear from the excerpt, Abbott is John's father. Enjoy! :)

  

By next week, Christmas cards from business associates were pouring into the house. Abbott shook his head when he saw another stack sitting on his desk and pushed them aside.

   "It's Louis Prang's contest, that's what it is," Abbott grumbled as he settled in the chair with his fourth cup of coffee. "There you have it, John, the common man, hoping to make an uncommon mark with a lousy piece of art and another mercenary transaction for a holy day."

   John picked up one such L. Prang and Company card. A red-head angel, hands on her hips, with a Xmas banner on the top right and a "to and "from" on her lower left smirked back at him.

   "You don't feel Jay Gould is sincere? Shocking!" John tossed the card on the desk. "Still, you don't mind yet another shipment of German mercury glass for your annual round of New Haven blue spruces, one for every wing of every floor, if I'm correct, courtesy of Uncle Ralph."

   Still intent on the account books, Abbott muttered, "We do an extraordinary amount of entertaining."

   "Explains your concern regarding insufficient alms for the poor."

   "That reminds me," Abbott said, glancing up with sly eyes. "Your pay is reduced for this month. I figured you'd want to make a generous contribution to Hudson Poor Farm, current home of the Gibbs family."

   John held the gaze, but inside, he boiled with fury. Without another word, he left the room.

   By the evening of December 23, the house was filled with guests anticipating festivities extending through New Year's Day, most of them centered around food, from the creamed fish leading the Christmas Eve dinner at dusk to the roast goose stuffed with apples and potatoes on Christmas evening. As Christmas Eve night deepened and the post-dinner conversations grew louder over thick slices of Irish cake and lively games of whist, John retreated to his chambers, avoiding those of his mother's, to think and plan.

   He was back downstairs by a quarter past eleven. With his star outshining the others in brilliance and brightness, John accompanied Abbott on foot to the candlelit midnight Mass at Old St. Patrick's Cathedral. Abbott stubbornly refused to set foot inside the new seat of the Archdiocese of New York, which John could not comprehend, as his father was not generally sentimental. But either the solemnity of the newborn Savior or the claret punch struck Abbott, for his strong tenor cut through the silent, glittering night on the walk back:

Adeste, fideles, laeti triumphantes:

Venite, venite in Bethlehem:

Venite adoremus.

Venite adoremus.

Venite adoremus Dominum.

   At home, feast number two awaited them: French omelets, hot buttered toast, buckwheat cakes, creamed potatoes and creamed sweetbreads, oyster pie, assorted jellies, and coffee. But the post-Mass discussions were subdued and halting. Gradually, the weary clan dispersed to their rooms, and John went with them, Gloria, in excelsis Deo lingering in his mind. By late morning, they had relished a hearty brunch of French onion soup, mutton chops, and fried apples; an afternoon Christmas tea staved off hunger pains for several more hours. John retired sooner than usual. Abbott had scheduled an early morning meeting with the board of trustees.

   On Saturday, the last day of the year, Abbott closed the bank at noon and donned his best host etiquette for yet another multi-coursed feast in the large dining room and musical entertainment in the drawing room. John sat in the corner and greeted eighteen eighty-two with a bottle of champagne and a heart of steel. He'd erred greatly in softening toward Savannah. He would never make that mistake toward any woman again.

   Never.

   The crowd sang Auld Layne Syne; a cloud drifted over his star.

Photo by Timothy Baran

Community News: Dec. 12, 2018

Check out upcoming events, food resources, and some great recipes!

Local food events: Dec. 12 through Dec. 19 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/03/local-food-events-dec-12-through-dec-19/a8za7vh/

Food resources in Will, Grundy counties 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/04/food-resources-in-will-grundy-counties/ahv0f4u/

Will County Health Department gives talk on new FDA food code

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/11/18/1b404dd25a014b22ac97962d28c7fc26/index.xml

Make great shrimp scampi without the butter-and-oil slick 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/make-great-shrimp-scampi-without-the-butter-and-oil-slick/aow9l5r/

Pretty holiday cookies that don't taste like cardboard 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/pretty-holiday-cookies-that-dont-taste-like-cardboard/akdyxhv/

Can't get a whole pig? You can still make a yummy porchetta 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/cant-get-a-whole-pig-you-can-still-make-a-yummy-porchetta/afl4yj4/

When it comes to pot roast, keeping it simple is the best 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/when-it-comes-to-pot-roast-keeping-it-simple-is-the-best/a2j76mw/

For a quick take on pizza at home, use Indian flatbread 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/for-a-quick-take-on-pizza-at-home-use-indian-flatbread/a1fgf26/

Make great shrimp scampi without the butter-and-oil slick 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/11/make-great-shrimp-scampi-without-the-butter-and-oil-slick/aow9l5r/


Sign up for the Will County Go Guide

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/will-county-go-guide/#//


Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story Newsletter

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/locallit/


Sign up for The Munsonville Times

https://www.bryonyseries.com/munsonville-times

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Memories in the Kitchen: Bites and Nibbles from "Bryony." Follow him at www.facebook.com/artbymattcoundiff

A Very BryonySeries Christmas: Excerpt No. 3

Below is an excerpt from Staked! the third book in the BryonySeries trilogy.

“Well now, John-Peter,” Steve said, “Are they straight?”

            
 John-Peter edged away from the tree, picked up his water jug, and studied the results. His grandfather hadn’t lost the knack for perfect lights. No crooked rows, no bare patches.

            
“It looks great, Grandpa,” John-Peter said.

            
“Then see if you can find the star while I check the chili and start the cornbread. Maybe we can get all the ornaments hung before lunch.”

            
“Ten-four.”

            
John-Peter gave the lights another approving look. The tree scented the entire room with pine, and it was, as Steve had said, a real beauty. It stood just shy enough from the ceiling to hold a topper and its lush, bluish branches partly obscured the room’s large picture window.

            
With less than a week left until Christmas, most people in Munsonville had their Christmas trees up and decorated, but not his grandfather. Steve wanted to maximize its freshness. He hadn't sent Jack to fetch it until yesterday.

             
John-Peter knelt on the floor by the smallest box and peeled back the tape. Nothing but the manger scene. He moved to another box. He was dying to go back to Eircheard’s, but an opportunity to do so would be long in coming. During Katie’s work hours, Karla now had to stay at her grandparents’ house. He wished Karla would hurry up and perfect teleportation. Then maybe she could figure out a way to get him back inside the pawn shop from their respective residences. That would thwart Katie’s control trip.

           
The star wasn’t in this box either. The boy scooted to the next box. What kind of portal had Cornell been seeking? And why did he think Eircheard could direct him to it?

            
An agitated Karla had called him that first night--once the mothers had finished their respective, loud venting--demanding an answer: Why did Eircheard have a leprechaun that matched the one John-Peter carried in his pocket?

            
“Maybe they were mass produced back in the 1960s, and Eircheard got lucky,” John-Peter had said, watching Bertrand swat at a tiny cheese cracker Karla hovered just out his reach.

            
“Will you get serious? Who'd want to buy such an ugly thing?” She tossed the cracker past the blocks, and Bertrand leaped over them in frantic pursuit of dinner. “I wonder what the words mean.”

            
 John-Peter leaned against the bed and clasped his hands behind his neck. “That's easy."

           
“You can read them?”

            
“Yes, ma’am.”

            
“So are you going to tell?”

            
“Bertrand wants another cracker.”

            
A shower of orange squares rattled onto the floor. Bertrand’s eyes bulged with delight, and he dove into the pile. “Satisfied?”

           
John-Peter ignored the smirk in her voice. “Remember how you said Cornell was looking for a portal, and Eircheard said something about doors?”

            
“Yeah, so?”

            
“’Cha d’dhuin doras nach d’fhosgail doras’ means ‘No door ever closed, but another opened."

            
Karla was quiet for a moment. “How do you know that?” The sarcastic tone was gone.

            
John-Peter closed his eyes and sleepiness sailed him to the top of a large oak tree where the wind rustled the leaves, and the boughs echoed with the hollow notes of Fawn’s tin whistle. He reopened his eyes, but the lids remained heavy, and he had to concentrate on forming the words.

           
“I’m not certain," John-Peter said slowly as he watched Bertrand enthusiastically nibbled a corner off one cracker, then another, and another. “I just know it.”

           
Still no star. He reached for the last box. Even before he unwrapped the first package, the boy felt points poking out of the newspaper. “Got it!”

             
The response from the kitchen was a loud clatter.

            
“Grandpa!”

            
Silence, scary silence.

Community News: Dec. 11, 2018

Check out upcoming events and the awesome things people are doing.

Local health events: Dec. 11 through Dec. 18 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/08/local-health-events-dec-11-through-dec-18/aof94bs/

Support available for infant loss

Will County Health Department discusses bereavement, resources 

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/08/support-available-for-infant-loss/a9d4bbi/

Illinois releases first maternal morbidity and mortality report

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/08/illinois-releases-first-maternal-morbidity-and-mortality-report/aj69jky/

Will County Health Department talks about premature births

Planning a pregnancy from the start is the best way to avoid one

https://www.theherald-news.com/2018/12/08/will-county-health-department-talks-about-premature-births/arxu3h9/

Manhattan Dental Care candy buy back a huge success

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/02/7f2ab4f9fd944da5876571433d81d7bd/index.xml

Bringing smiles to faces during difficult times

Family and friends donate toys in memory of Orland Park teen

https://www.theherald-news.com/lists/2018/12/02/ab47dff62a2d424d970337e7496958da/index.xml


Sign up for the Will County Go Guide

http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/will-county-go-guide/#//


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http://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/locallit/


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Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage." Follow him at www.facebook.com/artbymattcoundiff

A Very BryonySeries Christmas: Excerpt No. 2

Below is an excerpt from Visage, the second book in the BryonySeries trilogy.


Afraid for Debbie’s and the baby’s safety, Melissa risked John’s wrath and threw down her best card: “Was Bryony this swollen?”

John slowly looked up and regarded her with cold and distant eyes. Melissa steeled herself against his silent ire and repeated, “Was Bryony....?”

“Melissa.” John didn’t sound angry, only drained. “That happened a long time ago.”

“So you don’t remember?”

“Maybe she was, a little. Certainly nothing resembling your description. Perhaps Debbie should call Dr. Lofield.”

“She says he already knows.”

“Quite possibly, you’re overreacting.”

“What if I’m not?”

John stared evenly at her. “Do you want a second opinion from Dr. Rothgard?”

“No!”

Because of approaching inclement weather, John again allowed two days for the trip to Bradford Heights, and again John rose in the pre-dawn hours on Christmas Eve to complete the journey by early afternoon. As they left the motel room, the telephone rang. John set down the suitcases and hurried to answer it.

With real alarm in  his voice, John said, “Thank you, Mom. I’ll keep you and Dad posted.” John hung up the phone, began dialing, and said, “Derek called my parents’ house. Debbie had a seizure.”
Melissa’s legs shook, and she weakly sank onto the bed.

“Labor and delivery,” John told the operator at Jenson Memorial Hospital.

Many years ago, a baby destined for greatness survived birth in a stable on this very night. Surely, that same God could protect her child. Please, please, please, Melissa silently begged, make Debbie and this baby be okay.

John hung up the phone and turned to her.

“The baby’s fine.” John said, “but Debbie is not. Derek said they’re inducing labor as soon as they’ve stabilized her.”

“John.…”

“I want to go home. Do you mind?”

She sighed deeply, relieved John put their baby ahead of his own plans. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“It’s not much of a Christmas for you.”

“A healthy baby is the only present I want.”

The overcast sky swelled with cold, damp air. Its first snowflakes fell as John merged onto the highway, and they continued falling fast and steady all through the congested morning traffic, slowing holiday travelers to a maddening crawl. Radio snow advisories, crackling with static, warned against travel. John didn’t speak for most of the trip, but the troubled look on his face produced volumes.

They reached Jenson at two o’clock in the morning. John left the car at the emergency room’s front doors and rushed inside with Melissa at his heels.

A security guard stopped her. “You can’t leave that car here.”

“But....”

“No ‘buts.’ Move it now, or I’ll call the police.”

John had vanished without her. Fuming at the guard’s insensitivity and John’s impatience, Melissa circled the parking lot seeking an empty space. Afterwards, she slipped and slid through the treacherous lot back to the emergency room. An anxious John met her at the front door.

“Debbie had a stroke. She’s in surgery.”

“Oh, no! What about the baby? Isn’t it too little?”

“I don’t know.”

He took her hand and led her down the hall. Melissa obediently trotted beside him to the elevators. Inside, John pushed “five.” As they moved upward, John said, “Dr. Lofield isn’t performing the surgery. He’s sick with the flu. They called Dr. Rothgard.”

The elevator doors opened, and Melissa stepped out after John. Amazing, Melissa thought. Even fate bowed to John’s wishes.

“You’re sure he’s the best?” Melissa asked doubtfully.

But John was talking to a nurse, who escorted them to a waiting area. Melissa tried losing herself in an old magazine, failed, and tried again. John paced, made frequent bathroom trips, and annoyed the nurses with constant requests for updates on the baby.

Once, he banged his fist on the wall and then covered that weakness by saying, “I need coffee. Melissa?”

She shook her head, settled back into the seat cushions, and prayed Dr. Rothgard’s sterling reputation proved itself in the operating room. She doubted John could handle both infertility and a second dead baby. Melissa’s body jerked, and she rubbed her fuzzy eyes to read the wall clock. Four o’clock. She had slept over an hour. Her gaze swept over the room. No John.

Melissa stood, stretched, and drifted to the water cooler. She brought the cup with her to the window. There she stood and noted the empty, white street. Nothing existed except cruel, tortuous wait. She crushed the waxed paper between her fingers, glad for something to destroy. A car horn beeped.

She sighed, turned away, and tossed the cup into the garbage can.

Christmas in July tree by Rebekah Baran