{"id":442,"date":"2011-04-08T07:02:00","date_gmt":"2011-04-08T07:02:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/blog\/2011\/04\/08\/title-spotlight-daffodils-by-donna-b\/"},"modified":"2015-11-25T12:51:10","modified_gmt":"2015-11-25T19:51:10","slug":"title-spotlight-daffodils-by-donna-b","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/title-spotlight-daffodils-by-donna-b\/","title":{"rendered":"Title Spotlight: Daffodils by Donna B. Snow"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/div>\n
The doorbell echoing through the house was the last straw\u2026as
\nif the pounding hadn\u2019t been enough. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m coming already,\u201d Margaret Ellington snarled. Whoever
\nwas banging deserved whatever came out of her mouth. Pushing hair out of her eyes,  she snapped the lock and yanked the door open.  <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s face froze. Oh, Lord, help me.<\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Sky blue eyes stared back at her\u2014Lukas North.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

His lopsided grin would have suited a ten-year-old boy after
\ngetting away with some mischievous prank. Eyebrows raised, he lifted a cup of  coffee from the crook of his elbow and held it towards her. Pink lettering on the cup showed the logo from the coffee shop around the corner. The bright morning sun set red-gold highlights aglitter in his hair while his eyes crinkled at the corners. A dimple dipped into his cheek. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret forced her gaze back up to his. \u201cWhat are you doing
\nhere?\u201d She groaned at her own rudeness, a moment later remembering his pounding
\non the door. He always had brought out the best\u2014and the worst in her. She
\npushed the screen open as he continued to hold the cup towards her. Fingertip
\nto fingertip, Margaret felt the tingle shoot up her arm. She took the coffee
\nand let the screen door slap closed between them as she gripped the door frame.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Not Lukas. Never again. Ten years…Lord, help me. I
\ncan\u2019t deal with him today. Leaving is hard enough. Please, Lord, give me
\nstrength.<\/i> She shivered then glanced up and down the street, refusing to
\nmeet his gaze. Lukas had always seen too much\u2014as if he could see straight into
\nher soul. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret lowered her head and sighed. A peek at her watch
\nand she looked down the street again, hoping for a savior in the form of a
\nmoving van. They should be here in about fifteen minutes.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She stared at a van parked on the street. Why is he here?
\nWhy isn\u2019t he saying anything? Silently, she raised the coffee towards her mouth
\nand a waft of steam touched her lips. She lowered it without taking a sip. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

The vehicles in the driveway distracted her from Lukas as a
\nthird pickup pulled in. The door of the red van parked out front opened. She
\nlooked from one vehicle to the other trying to see who was in them. What are
\nthese trucks doing in my yard? <\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Jamestown, California was still a small town where everyone
\nknew everyone, at least the faces that belonged, even some that passed through,
\noften on their way to Sonora. And the people gathering in her yard belonged
\nhere. They had been friends with her and Peter for years. But they all said
\ngoodbye at the party last night.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She turned back to Lukas. He stood patiently watching,
\nwaiting\u2026 <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Before she could ask, he waved a hand towards the driveway.
\n\u201cYour caravan awaits.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s brow furrowed. \u201cThe moving van should be here
\nsoon. I told you yesterday that I was all set.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He took a sip of his coffee and glanced over his shoulder.
\n\u201cWhat? You don\u2019t think we have enough help here?\u201d He turned back towards
\nMargaret, his blue eyes frowning at her.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She glanced away, her fingers digging into the foam cup. \u201cI
\ndon\u2019t want to put anyone out. It would just be easier\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cEasier for you, maybe, but we\u2019d like to help. A lot of us
\nwill miss you and we want the chance to show you how we feel.\u201d He held her
\ngaze, his voice soft spoken.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret stared into his eyes, mesmerized by what she
\nthought she saw there. Heat\u2014a slow burn, a smoldering fire. He couldn\u2019t
\npossibly still\u2026She shook herself and looked away. His problem. He\u2019s the one who
\nwalked away.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Forgiveness\u2026<\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She cleared her throat then looked at her watch again.
\n\u201cRemember the small going away party last night?\u201d She pictured him manning the
\ngrill, spatula in hand. That was supposed to be their goodbye. The kiss at the
\nend of the night had been enough of a surprise to keep her tossing and turning
\nfor hours. She didn\u2019t need any more unexpected surprises like that. \u201cWhat am I
\nsupposed to do? Leave the moving company a note that I\u2019m all set?\u201d Once again,
\nMargaret lifted the cup for a tentative sip.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Lukas raised his brows and grinned. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Oh, that grin. She could feel her lips twitching, wanting to
\nanswer in kind.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cNot to worry. I already took care of that.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret narrowed her eyes. \u201cWhat do you mean, you took care
\nof it? They are still coming, right?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He shook his head. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Can\u2019t he at least have the decency to look a little bit
\nashamed? <\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cI cancelled them yesterday after I talked with you.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cYou what? There\u2019s a fee for cancelling. If I\u2019m paying them
\nregardless, you better believe they\u2019ll be providing their services.\u201d She
\nclenched her fist. Some things just never changed. He always did think he knew
\nwhat was best. How dare he? She wanted to stomp her foot at his
\nhigh-handedness\u2014slam the door in his face. Oh, she was tempted. Lucky for him
\nGod had made a new woman of her. He was the only one holding back her temper,
\nshe was sure.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cI took care of that, too.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She rolled her eyes. \u201cWonderful. So I guess that makes it
\nall right.\u201d <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m just saving you the expense since it wasn\u2019t your
\ndoing.\u201d His tone was steady, the smile falling flat when his gaze met hers.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He sounded so reasonable. Just who does he think he is?
\nAs if he has any say in my life anymore. You gave up that right a long time
\nago, buddy.<\/i> She shook her head, trying to quiet the argument going on in
\nher mind. She glared at him, tilting her chin. \u201cAnd what if I want the moving
\ncompany to come, anyway?\u201d <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He quirked a brow and didn\u2019t respond.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret sighed and closed her eyes. \u201cLook, I don\u2019t want
\nanyone getting hurt moving my stuff. The furniture is heavy and I would really
\nrather the professionals take care of it. And what if something gets broken? I
\ndon\u2019t want anyone feeling responsible for any damages. The movers have
\ninsurance for that kind of thing.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve all helped friends move at one time or another. We
\nknow how to lift stuff. No one\u2019s going to get hurt and nothing will be broken.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t guarantee that.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but I can guarantee that no one would hold it against
\nyou even if they did get hurt. I can also guarantee that no feelings will be
\nhurt by you accepting the help that\u2019s offered. No such guarantees on a
\nrefusal.\u201d His stare bit into her.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Her gaze broke away first. How neatly he boxed her in with
\nhis words\u2026and what a shrew she would look like if she sent everyone away\u2014if
\nthey would even leave. Plus, it was probably too late to reschedule the movers,
\nand she had to be moved out today. The new owners would be here tomorrow.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure they don\u2019t want to waste a whole day out of their
\nvacation schedule just to help me move. With Christmas just past and getting
\nthemselves ready to head back to school I\u2019m sure they have better things to
\ndo.\u201d <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He stared at her and raised his eyebrows.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Darn the man. She sighed. \u201cLook, the new house is an hour
\naway from here, in Solsta.\u201d She glanced at the vehicles in her yard, then back
\nat Lukas. \u201cLet me at least pay for their gas.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Lukas shook his head.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret slapped a hand on her hip. \u201cWhat difference does it
\nmake? I would have been paying the movers.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. We\u2019re all here to help a friend,\u201d he answered calmly.
\nHe took a sip of his coffee and looked over his shoulder. \u201cOops, looks like the
\ngang\u2019s all here.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

A blue car pulled up. Great. The principal and first grade
\nteacher. They stepped out and waved, smiling as they started up the walkway.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Lukas rubbed the back of his neck and grinned.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cHi.\u201d Her smile quivered as they approached. She lifted a
\nhand to brush the hair away from her eyes again. \u201cThank you so much. I really
\ndidn\u2019t want to put anyone out, especially just after Christmas like this.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Peter, God rest his soul, would have skinned me alive
\nif he knew I didn\u2019t help you with your move.\u201d The principal came halfway up the
\nwalkway and crossed his arms over his chest, planting his feet apart. \u201cMatter
\nof fact, he would never forgive me for letting you go to begin with.\u201d <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

He was right. Peter, her husband, would have told her, in no
\nuncertain terms, that these people cared about her and that she should let them
\nhelp. They were her friends. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

As a matter of fact, if Peter were the one speaking, he
\nwould tell her she couldn\u2019t run away from it all, that she would carry it with
\nher no matter where she went. He would also have told her that God had a plan
\nand that she ought to pray to understand what His will was in all this.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Oh, Lord, I know that, but Peter\u2019s gone home to be with
\nYou. I have to go. I can\u2019t stay here.<\/i> After two years of stumbling around
\nand mourning her half-hearted attempt at marriage, she couldn\u2019t live with the
\ngrief or the guilt anymore. She knew God had forgiven her, but she didn\u2019t
\ndeserve it.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

I\u2019m so sorry, Peter, sorry I wasn\u2019t the wife I should
\nhave been\u2026sorry I didn\u2019t love you as much as I should have\u2026sorry I never gave
\nyou the child you so desperately wanted. <\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret took a deep breath, blinking her eyes until the
\nwatery vision cleared. Worrying her bottom lip, she looked from one face to
\nanother, then cleared her throat and sniffed. \u201cWell, I guess since you\u2019re here,
\nand the movers aren\u2019t coming\u2026\u201d She looked pointedly at Lukas. \u201c\u2026I\u2019ll have to
\nput you all to work.\u201d She pushed the screen door open. \u201cCome on in. We might as
\nwell get started.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Lukas held the door and stepped in last. He stood beside her
\nand looked around. \u201cNo stray Christmas decorations that you might have missed?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret turned away and stepped towards the kitchen. \u201cI
\ndidn\u2019t put any up this year.\u201d Or last year…<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She looked around at everyone. They seemed to know just
\nwhere to start, so Margaret continued into the kitchen. Lukas glanced at the
\nboxes and nodded towards them. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you finish what you were doing? We\u2019ll
\nload the furniture and by the time we\u2019re done you\u2019ll have those ready to go. Is
\nthat the last of it to be packed up?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret nodded, and then watched everyone find their place
\nwith well-choreographed steps, each person going where they were needed. Jokes
\nand laughter filled the house as they loaded her life into their trucks.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret wandered back to the kitchen to pack the pan she
\nused for breakfast this morning, plus the few other items still in the
\ncupboards. A half hour later, after checking all the cabinets and drawers one
\nlast time, she taped the final box closed and lifted her head in time to see a
\nlamp sliding towards the floor.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa, easy there,\u201d Lukas said from the doorway, his gaze
\ncolliding with Margaret\u2019s. He turned back to the job at hand. \u201cNice save.\u201d <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She released her breath and looked away, brushed off her
\njeans and walked down the hall without a word. Wandering from room to room, she
\ndouble-checked everything. Closets were empty, no boxes forgotten. The shadows
\non the walls outlined stark reminders of where pictures had been. The
\nunfinished projects\u2014a cracked floorboard, chipped molding, a small hole in the
\nplaster, all stared at her accusingly. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret closed her eyes as she clutched the doorframe. Oh,
\nGod, why Peter? He was the good one.<\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

I\u2019m so sorry, Peter.<\/i> A tear splashed onto the carpet.
\nMargaret took a deep breath, wiped her cheek, and stepped into what had been
\nPeter\u2019s sickroom. She walked to the window seat and stared out into the
\nbackyard, arms clutched around her middle. There would be no sound of children
\nplaying, no sitting on the glider growing old together. She put a hand on the
\nwindow. If only I could have loved you more\u2014<\/i><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cAny more, Megs?\u201d Lukas\u2019 footsteps grew louder as he came
\ndown the hall.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She wiped away another tear as it dribbled down her cheek.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hey, there you are.\u201d He hesitated in the doorway,
\nresting a hand on the frame. He lowered his voice. \u201cYou OK?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, afraid that if he
\ncame near her she would collapse in those arms; arms she knew were strong
\nenough to hold her up. Arms she had missed for years. She hated herself for
\nwanting to feel them wrap around her again.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

A glimmer of a smile creased his lips, as if sharing her
\npain. She remembered other smiles, other glances across different rooms. She
\nsighed and looked back outside. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

After ten years, the memory of Lukas disappearing from her
\nlife still haunted her. She had worn his engagement ring through the last half
\nof their senior year. Then a month before their wedding day, he left. No
\ngoodbye, just a letter\u2014as if that was enough. Then poof. He was gone.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

She gave the ring to her mother and never saw it again. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

The pain of lost love still lingered. It was best left in
\nthe past, but she had never figured out how to let it go. God knew she tried. <\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

The contradiction tore at her heart. Losing Lukas hurt worse
\nthan anything else in her life, but the love never died. If only she could have
\nloved Peter with that same fervor, instead of the half-hearted love she had
\ngiven him. Oh, she had tried, but it wasn\u2019t the same.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Margaret took a deep breath. Her gaze lingered on the
\nbackyard for a long moment. Straightening her shoulders, she led the way down
\nthe hall, stepping silently past Lukas. <\/div>\n

___________________________________________<\/p>\n

Daffodils<\/a>, Available now. White Rose Publishing<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The doorbell echoing through the house was the last straw\u2026as if the pounding hadn\u2019t been enough. \u201cI\u2019m coming already,\u201d Margaret Ellington snarled. Whoever was banging deserved whatever came out of her mouth. Pushing hair out of her eyes,  she snapped the lock and yanked the door open.  Margaret\u2019s face froze. Oh, Lord, help me. Sky […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1232,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[512],"tags":[309,308,310,195],"class_list":["post-442","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-all-about-books","tag-donna-b-snow","tag-excerpt","tag-title","tag-white-rose-publishing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/442","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=442"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/442\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1232"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=442"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=442"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pelicanbookgroup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=442"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}