{"id":1003,"date":"2019-02-08T13:05:52","date_gmt":"2019-02-08T18:05:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1003"},"modified":"2020-08-25T15:46:11","modified_gmt":"2020-08-25T19:46:11","slug":"a-place-to-come-home-to","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/a-place-to-come-home-to\/","title":{"rendered":"A Place to Come Home To"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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A Place to Come Home To<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Melody Carlson<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maggie Carpenter, hardworking and successful news reporter for the Los Angeles Times, laughs when she first spots the quaint job posting on the Internet. But when the violence of gang activity hits her neighborhood and her teenage son begins to withdraw, Maggie reconsiders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Maggie and Spencer arrive in Pine Mountain, Oregon, they realize with dismay that the idyllic escape they\u2019d hope for has fallen into disrepair. As she rallies the townsfolk in an attempt to save the community, she makes friends and discovers enemies. Why is the postmaster so unfriendly? What dark secret in the woods threatens the efforts of the Main Street merchants to restore the town? And will Maggie have the courage to open her heart to either the mysterious, wood-working preacher of the outgoing, sophisticated photographer?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Maggie scanned\nthe words on her computer screen again\u2014it sounded too good to be true. And\nusually that meant it wasn\u2019t. Her journalist\u2019s\nsense of skepticism kicked in as she called out to Skip in the cubicle next to her. \u201cListen to this one,\nSkippy. Dream <\/em>job in a\ndream location. Wanted: experienced and motivated newspaper\nwriter\/editor to manage small-town paper in Central\nOregon. Benefits include but not limited to: tall pine trees, snowcapped\nmountains, peace and quiet\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\ndo I sign up?\u201d asked Skip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed. \u201cAnd while you\u2019re at it, I have a bridge\nI\u2019d like\nto sell you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Skip leaned over the divider and pointed his pencil at\nher accusingly. \u201cHaven\u2019t you ever been a dreamer, Maggie?\nI\u2019ll bet there\u2019s an old-fashioned idealist hiding beneath that\ncynical\nreporter\u2019s crusty exterior.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She just shook her head and sighed. \u201cIdealists don\u2019t survive in L.A.,\nSkippy. At least not for long.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grew thoughtful for a moment. \u201cMaybe you\u2019re right. I\u2019m still a newcomer here.\u201d Maggie watched as disappointment washed\nover his face and suddenly felt guilty for spoiling\nhis youthful illusions. Maybe she was a little jaded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry, Skip. I probably felt like that once too, but I\nsuppose my brass ring has gotten a little tarnished-looking\nover the\nyears.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled and nodded towards her computer. \u201cAny luck in your Net-search for a fledgling reporter who\u2019s willing to become a slave\nfor peanuts, or are you just surfing for the fun of it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing much yet.\u201d She glanced at her watch. \u201cActually, I better\ncall it quits. I promised Spencer that I\u2019d start coming home before dinnertime this week.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat a concept. Which reminds me, I\u2019m running late too. See ya\ntomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maggie\nreturned her attention to her computer screen, but before exiting the ad section she stole one last look to see exactly where this \u201cdream job\u201d was located. Pine\nMountain, Oregon. How interesting.\nShe read the address again just to be\nsure. Pine Mountain\u2026 now that induced some wonderful childhood memories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her family<\/a> had spent several summer vacations on Silver Lake, just outside of the small town of Pine Mountain. Her dad\u2019s partner had lent them his cabin up there, a rustic\naffair made from hand-hewn pine logs and complete\nwith a stone fireplace that smelled like real wood smoke. She\u2019d almost forgotten that short but happy\nera. Even now it seemed like a time\nand place out of some juvenile book she\u2019d\nread long ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Places like that <\/em>couldn\u2019t really exist. But even if it was only imaginary, wouldn\u2019t it be great to go there, if simply for a moment. How she would savor the clean fragrance of sun-warmed pine needles and the peaceful sound of water lapping\ngently against the dock on a hot summer\u2019s day\u2014things\nshe had taken for granted during their summer vacations. Suddenly she recalled how she and her brother would traipse\nthrough the little tourist town of Pine Mountain in search of an ice cream cone\u2014two enormous scoops of the wildest flavors dripping down the side of the\ncone in the summer\u2019s sun. But the\nfriendly shopkeepers hardly seemed to notice\nthe sticky faces or grimy camp clothes and dusty tennis shoes. How\nunlike the immaculate designer shops in L.A. where everyone and everything\nlooked squeaky clean and perfect\u2014at least\non the exterior. Did places like Pine Mountain really still exist?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She blinked at the clock, remembering her promise to her son, and shut\noff her computer. Determined to start this week out right, she had to hurry if\nshe wanted to fix a real dinner tonight.\nShe\u2019d even gone to the store during her lunch hour for fresh pasta and a\nfew other ingredients she hadn\u2019t seen in\nher cupboards for months. Perhaps a feeble effort on her part, but when\nshe\u2019d learned from a teacher friend that Spencer\nwas hanging with some kids who were not his old sports pals, she\u2019d grown\nconcerned. And according to the same teacher, these were the kind of kids\nrumored to have gang connections.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Naturally,\nSpencer denied all this, insisting that\njust because some of his friends dressed differently the paranoid\nteachers assumed they were \u201cgang-bangers.\u201d Not wishing to engage in another\nuseless argument, Maggie had held her\ntongue, hoping that he knew what he was talking about. And after all, he had\nalways been sensible and dependable,\nalways more mature than his peers. But at the same time she was haunted by the\nmemory of how Phil had always said that kids who imitated gangs\u2014\n\u201cwannabes\u201d\u2014could be just as dangerous as the real thing. Maybe even more so. Oh, if only Phil were still\nalive. He\u2019d surely know how to deal with this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maggie fought down a wave of sadness as she rode the elevator down to the parking garage. This wasn\u2019t how it was supposed to\nhave gone. She had never intended to marry a cop. Everything sensible and\nrational inside of her had warned her against it. But those clear blue eyes,\nthat disarming smile and hearty laugh, had\nall joined forces to defeat her on their very first date! Now Phil was\ngone, and it was her job, a\nthirty-eight-year-old newspaper reporter, to raise Spencer alone. And fourteen\nwas a bad age. Other parents had warned her, but she had boasted that\nher son was different\u2014reliable, responsible, trustworthy. Now she wasn\u2019t so\nsure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hardly remembered the commute home. Not because she\u2019d driven it thousands of times, but because her mind was seeking refuge in the Oregon mountains. Once again she was a carefree child, splashing in the cold lake, teasing her little brother with a frog, looking at stars so close she thought she could reach up\nand touch them with her fingertips. She sighed\nas she exited the freeway. Skip was wrong, she hadn\u2019t always been a skeptical, no-nonsense reporter.\nOnce upon a time, she\u2019d been young,\nshe\u2019d entertained all kinds of dreams and ideals\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And\nthen she saw them\u2014flashing lights, police cars, ambulances, at least a dozen of\nthem\u2014all in front of her house! She parked her car without shutting off the\nengine, then leaped out and pressed through\nthe crowd of gathering spectators and curious neighbors. Quickly she\nforced her way to where a number of\nuniformed officers were standing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStay back, ma\u2019am,\u201d warned a young cop she didn\u2019t recognize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, Maggie,\u201d called Gordon Bender, an old friend of Phil\u2019s from the\nforce. \u201cLet her through, Kent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nran to Gordon, unable to form an intelligible sentence, searching his eyes for some sort of sign that everything was\nokay. \u201cIs he\u2026 is it\u2026 Spencer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gordon\nthrew an arm around her shoulders. \u201cNow don\u2019t\nworry, Maggie. Spencer is just fine\u2014pretty shook up though. He\u2019s over\ntalking to Lieutenant Harrell right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen\nwhat in the world is going on?\u201d She felt tears of relief build in her eyes, but\nshe was determined to remain calm. Putting on her reporter\u2019s reserved\ndetachment, she would just get the facts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA drive-by shooting.\u201d Gordon exhaled slowly before he continued.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a kid\u2026 Brian Jackson.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\nno\u2026\u201d Her hand flew to her mouth. \u201cHow is he?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gordon\nshook his head sadly. \u201cHe\u2019s dead, Maggie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo!\u201d She could no longer hold back the tears. \u201cOh, no! I\ncan\u2019t believe it! Not here, not in this neighborhood! This is a quiet\nsubdivision\u2026 Phil always said it was safe\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gordon\nfrowned. \u201cNo neighborhood is safe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, poor Sandy and Tom\u2026 are they home yet?\u201d Maggie looked over to her next-door neighbors\u2019 neatly landscaped yard. Tom kept the greenest lawn on the block. Now it was cordoned off\nwith garish yellow plastic tape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe\nparents are on their way. They know about the shooting, but they don\u2019t know\nhe\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly Maggie\u2019s knees began to weaken. She didn\u2019t know how much more of this she could process. She felt sick for the\nJacksons, but it also felt as if her own world was spinning more and\nmore out of control. \u201cI\u2019ve got to talk to Spence\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gordon grabbed her arm. \u201cWait until they\u2019re done questioning him,\nMaggie. Let\u2019s get you inside. You need to sit down and pull yourself together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if in a dazed dream, she allowed him to lead her into\nher own house. This couldn\u2019t be happening. Not here in\nOak Valley,\nwhere neighbors actually knew each other by first names and weren\u2019t afraid to\nwalk their dogs after dark. She sank into the couch and closed her eyes,\npressing her knuckles against them as if to press out what was going on all\naround her. She heard Gordon moving about in the kitchen, opening a cabinet,\nrunning water in the sink\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why, God? <\/em>she prayed in silent\ndesperation. Why do you <\/em>allow these\nthings to happen? <\/em>Her pleading wasn\u2019t an accusation.\nShe\u2019d moved beyond the accusation stage long ago. God had been her lifeline since Phil\u2019s death, and she couldn\u2019t afford to shove\nhim away now. And so she prayed wordlessly\nfor Sandy and Tom and for Brian\u2019s older sister, Lisa, who was away at\nher first year of college. Maggie\u2019s spirit cried out for her neighbors and the\nsorrow that would soon overwhelm them. She\nknew that kind of sorrow. It could kill you if you let it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nchest tightened as she remembered Brian\u2019s impish smile as he shot baskets against Spencer in their shared driveway just a few days ago. The two kids were\nalways comparing heights, but on that day Brian had been a hair taller and all long and lanky just like Spencer\u2014and\nthen she began to sob uncontrollably.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom,\nare you okay?\u201d asked Spencer in a voice that didn\u2019t sound anything like her\nson.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked up. His freckles stood out on his unusually pale face and his eyes seemed blank, like the shades pulled down over a\nwindow. He stood over her, his large, bony hands\nhanging loosely at his sides. Suddenly he seemed so tall and gangly. When had\nhe grown so tall? She stood up and reached out for him, and for the\nfirst time since Phil\u2019s death, they hugged and cried together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m\nso sorry about Brian, honey,\u201d she said when they finally pulled apart. \u201cI just\ncan\u2019t believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nwiped his wet cheeks with his hands. \u201cMe neither.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo\nyou know how it happened? Was Brian involved with any gang\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\nMom!\u201d Spencer\u2019s blue eyes flashed. \u201cCrud, you sound just like the cops! Brian\ndidn\u2019t have anything <\/em>to do with any gang! It was just some stupid,\nmoronic mistake. Don\u2019t you people get it?\u201d Then he stomped up the stairs as she watched speechlessly. She told herself that\nhis anger wasn\u2019t really meant for her, he was just upset about Brian\u2019s death\nand she was the closest target. But it hurt just the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somehow she made it through the evening. She cooked the fresh pasta, but didn\u2019t remember tasting it. Spencer had taken his plate into the family room where he sat silently in front of\nthe TV as local news of the shooting flashed before their eyes in a three-minute blurb. Then he went to his room. She rattled around the kitchen, feeling like a stranger in her own home, nervously glancing out of the windows every few minutes, fearful that the shooters might return. Later as she sat alone in\nthe darkened living room, she heard a car pull up. She jumped up and peered out\nthe window to see the Jacksons\u2019 BMW pull\ninto their driveway. Maggie dashed out the kitchen side door and across her\ndriveway to meet Sandy as the haggard-looking woman pulled herself from\nthe car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\ntwo of them hugged tightly for several long minutes, both crying freely. Then she offered to help in any way she could. Finally Sandy spoke. \u201cI know that you, of\nall people, understand how I feel,\nMaggie. You know what it\u2019s like to lose\nsomeone too\u2026 but all I can think is that it\u2019s all so blasted unfair!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nknow,\u201d said Maggie soothingly, her hand still on Sandy\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI still struggle with that too. And it still doesn\u2019t\nmake sense. But somehow I\u2019ve learned to lean on God through all this. And quite honestly, I don\u2019t know what I\u2019d\ndo without him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sandy blew her nose. \u201cWell, right now, I\u2019m really,\nreally mad\nat God!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Sandy. I was angry too. Sometimes I still am.\nJust\ndon\u2019t quit talking to him. Go ahead and tell God that you\u2019re mad\u2014vent your feelings. Believe me, he can take it. God\nhas big shoulders to cry on.\u201d They hugged again, and then Maggie helped them\nload some things into their car. They were\ngoing to a hotel\u2014it was too painful to be in their home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was nearly midnight when she fell into bed exhausted,\nbut sleep was far, far away. Her mind was pummeled with troubling\nquestions. What if another drive-by occurred? Could\nSpencer possibly be involved with a gang? It seemed unlikely, but how\ncould she be certain? And what about drugs? What would Phil do? And how was a\nsingle mom supposed to keep an eye on her kid when her job took her from home? On and on she went\u2014one answerless\nquestion chasing the heels of the next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, she forced her mind to refocus. She had <\/em>to\ntrust God\u2014anything\nelse would drive her over the edge. She breathed\ndeeply, willing herself to think of something, anything, to release her\nmind from her troubles. Whatever is good, whatever is pure, whatever is\nlovely\u2026  <\/em>And for the second time that day a vision of Silver Lake\ndrifted before her like a cool wisp\nof fresh air, peaceful, serene, bright blue sky, crystal clear water\u2026\nah, she was almost asleep\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, she sat up in bed. That <\/em>was her\nanswer\u2014the newspaper\njob in Pine Mountain! She ran downstairs and turned on her computer, waiting\nimpatiently for the machine to boot up, and then logged on and pulled up her\nbrowser. She searched for the ad, hoping desperately that someone else hadn\u2019t already snatched the dream job away.\nBut at last she found it\u2014the ad was still there! She smiled as she read the\nbenefits package again. Someone in Pine Mountain had a sense of humor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn\u2019t get to bed until after three, but when her\nhead hit the pillow her earlier sense of panic had abated.\nAnd for the first time since losing Phil, it felt like her life\nwas actually on track. She decided to trust God to open or close this\nnew door.\nAnd even if the door should open, she knew there might be some unseen challenges\u2014she was no fool. But if it was the right thing, it would all work out. Like a\nchild, she\u2019d just taken her first\nstep of faith. But it was God who would have to lead her on this\njourney.<\/p>\n\n\n