In trying to get back into the habit of blogging again, I thought I’d share another short excerpt, another song from my writing playlist, though tonight I’m revising an outline. It’s always interesting when you’re partway through a story and the greatest plot twist pops into your head. That means some fast backtracking and figuring out how it’s going to affect the rest of the story. It’s going to be in a good way but it’s going to take some work.
Okay, so here’s one of the songs I’m listening to tonight because part of what I’m working on is a little sad – and the right kind of music puts me in the right frame of mind so…. Sad stuff it is.
And now for the excerpt for Steven, book two in the Men From the Double M series. A sweetheart, we first met him in Josh. Hope you enjoy it. 🙂
Steven sat in the waiting room, knees spread apart, forearms resting on them as he leaned forward, trying to ignore the fear that kept trying to take root in his belly. Across from him, his sister sat with her head resting on her husband’s shoulder. Occasionally, their eyes would meet and he’d smile, hoping he looked more hopeful than he felt.
He’d never liked hospitals or emergency rooms and he especially didn’t like them when someone he loved had been brought there in an ambulance. Not that he had any experience with it. He wished he didn’t now.
When the call had come, shortly after lunch, he’d jumped in his truck and sped into town. He’d actually beaten the ambulance, had parked and was jogging toward the entrance when it came blaring in. In the space of a split second, he’d changed direction and hurried over there instead. He’d helped his mother down, wrapped his arms around her as they watched the paramedics pull the gurney with his father out.
He’d been banished to the waiting room shortly after that and had paced the long hall until Ainsley arrived from Lansing about half an hour later. Neil hadn’t been far behind and they’d all been sitting here for more than an hour now. Their mother texted that it looked like John Duncan had suffered a mild, possibly moderate heart attack.
“He’s not that old,” Ainsley whispered when he showed her the message on his phone.
And he wasn’t. Not even fifty yet, he seemed to be in good shape. He was trim and active, still farming almost two hundred acres and taking care of a handful of livestock—in addition to the milking business.
“He’ll be fine,” Steven told her because he couldn’t imagine the man who had raised them being anything else.
The fact that they didn’t know yet how serious it was—though it apparently wasn’t as bad as he’d originally feared—convinced him everything would be fine. A few weeks and things would be back to normal. He, his mother, and his sister would figure out what they had to do to keep him healthy from now on and that would be that. Steven wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t. Not after seeing his father’s ghostly white face twisted in pain behind an oxygen mask. It was a sight that would haunt him forever.
“You don’t think he’ll die, do you?” Ainsley whispered, leaning closer to her husband. Neil put an arm around her shoulders and held her close as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“No. He’s not going to die.” And as the words left his mouth, he prayed they were true. He wasn’t ready to lose his dad. He wouldn’t ever be ready for that day.