I know I said I'd post my beginning on Monday and it's Tuesday, but I'm here. Actually I got off to a pretty good start. I'd written what I thought was the opening scene even before writing the blog post. Then over the weekend, I thought, I'm not starting the story in the right place. I need to back up just a bit, in order to put more of the heroine's conflict on deck. So I wrote another opening scene. Likely, the two scenes will all be part of the first chapter. I'm going to post the "original" opening here.
Still don't have a working title, which is a little unusual for me, so maybe one will come through this process.
1,508 words, unedited.
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“Are you sure about this? Taking on three children is a huge responsibility.”
Joelle MacMillan could feel her mother’s steady gaze burning a hole into her back as she pulled the last of the clothing from her previously overstuffed closet. A few pieces fell from their hangars, which jangled in the now empty space. She placed the clothing on the queen-sized bed. Sighing, she folded each item and placed it atop the near full suitcase. No, she wasn’t sure whether she was ready to assume the guardianship of three minor children but she’d made a promise. And promises were meant to be kept. Just one of many lessons learned from her mother.
“Ma, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Who’d have thought that Brenda and Alex were going to die? Together. Before their time.”
Her voice quaked. Fresh tears brimmed her eyelids as she thought about losing her lifetime best friend. Joelle blinked and breathed in deeply, urging the unwanted tears to go away. The time for tears had past. Now she needed to focus all of her energy—and summon as many positive thoughts as she could—on taking care of Brenda and Alex’s three children: 13-year old Yvette, 9 year-old AJ, and her 4-year old namesake, Joi.
She folded the clothing slowly, savoring the feel of the expensive materials in each garment. Silk, linen, pure wool, only the softest of cottons. She loved buying and wearing clothing made of fine fabrics but she suspected she’d need more durable fabrics in the future, like cotton, polyester, and rayon for her new role as an adoptive mother. She wondered what other little aspects of her life were about to change.
If anything ever happens to you when we’re older and have kids, I’ll take care of your children. And you’ll take care of mine.
Always a bit bossy, Brenda had decided for the both of them. She could hear her friend’s heartfelt, childhood declaration as though she were standing next to Joelle, whispering into her ear. Joelle closed her eyes as she remembered that day, the day she and Brenda discovered there were some things that children shouldn’t know or experience.
The day had started out nice enough but clouds had rolled in and light drizzle had begun. She and Brenda been playing outside in the cul-de-sac. They were just about to hightail it to Brenda’s house, which was nearest, to get out of the rain when they heard a piercing scream. The type of scream that raised goosebumps on her arms. It had come from Shanice’s house. Concerned for their friend, they ran toward the sound but were stopped at the gate by Brenda’s next door neighbor, Mrs. Wattley. The look on Mrs. Wattley’s face, a mix of concern and dread, crushed any questions they might have thought to ask. They stood there, confused, wondering whether their friend was alright.
A few minutes later, wailing sirens announced the arrival of an ambulance, fire trucks, and finally, a police car. The emergency vehicles pulled up before their friend’s home. She and Brenda looked at each other, their eyes wide with fear. In silence, so in sync that they both knew they needed to get out of the way, they took a few steps backward. Far enough not to cause problems but not so far that they couldn’t fix their eyes upon the door. They stared at the unfolding scene, as various service workers bolted the vehicles, armed with all sorts of equipment, and entered the house. They remained rooted to that spot, just feet away from the door. The curtains were drawn so there was no way to tell what might be going on. But they had no intention of leaving until they found out. Mrs. Wattley stood nearby. Joelle averted her gaze for a moment, to notice the older woman shaking her head and a single tear rolling down her mottled cheeks. Her tongue felt like dry cardboard. She swallowed and returned her attention to her friend’s house.
After some time, the ambulance attendants exited the house with a stretcher. Completely covered. She’d seen enough action/adventure movies to know what that meant. As the men lifted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, another vehicle—a plain, dark blue sedan—arrived.
Moments later, she and Brenda watched the car drive away with their friend and her younger brother slumped in the backseat of the car. They watched helplessly as Shanice and her brother got into the car and road away. Later, she asked her mother, who explained that Shanice’s mother, and sole parent, had been a drug addict. She had died that day of an overdose. Since neither Shanice nor Roger knew how to contact any other family members, the Department of Children and Families had been contacted. They’d sent out a social worker right away, who gathered Shanice and Roger up with a few of their clothes and toys, and carted them off to places unknown. That was the last they’d seen or heard of Shanice.
Later, as the adults gathered and whispered in the living room downstairs, Joelle and Brenda hid beneath the eyelet covers of her princess bed. Brenda was spending the night at her house. They had wanted to stay together, to ward off any other bad tidings. To keep each other safe. Beneath the warmth of the thick, cotton comforter, the only light coming from the moonlight streaming through the matching eyelet curtains, Brenda, as she often did, had decided for them both.
“If anything ever happens…”
“It will be alright, Ma. I don’t know how everything will work out but I know that it will. I get along great with Brenda’s kids. We’ve always had fun in the past. Moving will be a bit of a shock for them, because they’ll have to get used to new schools and make new friends but they will. They’re great kids. Just wait until you meet them.”
Joelle cringed as she heard her mother sigh. “I just think you’re taking on more than you realize. So you made a promise to your childhood friend…”
“One that we made legitimate by naming each other as guardians for our unborn children, should we ever have any, in our wills.”
“Yes, but even then, neither you nor Brenda really knew what you were promising. What about your career? And what if you meet someone and fall in love? Will he be willing to take on a ready made family?”
Either she’s single or she’s estranged from her husband. Which will it be?
Joelle placed the stack of neatly folded clothes into the large suitcase that lay atop her bed. She turned to face her mother.
“That’s a good point. I suspect I’ll be re-evaluating a lot of things over the months and years to come, including what I find attractive in a man. Because the kids will be part of the package.”
She closed and zipped the tapestry suitcase. Then she placed it on the floor, angling it so that she could easily access the pull-out handles to roll it out of the room. She watched as Charlotte MacMillan pulled out her desk chair and sat down. Was her mother gearing up for a major battle or was she ready to concede? Unsure, she hoped it was the latter. The cavity in the pit of her stomach seemed to grow hour by hour, if not minute by minute. She had bags under her eyes and she could swear that she had double the normal amount of hair in her brush when she’d finished getting dressed that morning. A little support would be nice, certainly nicer than her mother’s determination to make Swiss cheese of her well-intentioned plans.
Stepping towards her mother, Joelle placed her arms around her mother’s shoulders. “I’m doing the right thing, Ma. I know I am. Brenda would have done the same for me.” If she were alive instead of Joelle. And if Joelle had been the one to marry and have children rather than pursue college and a career. If.
“Maybe she would have. And maybe she’d consider that gravity of a promise made before you’d even hit puberty. Before you had any responsibilities or knew what life could be like.”
Joelle took her mother’s hand and squeezed it.
“Brenda would definitely have kept her promise, just like I plan to keep mine. I can take care of thee children. You raised five of us, so it’s definitely something within the realm of possibility.”
Squeezing her mother’s hand again, Joelle continued, “Trust me, Ma. I can do this. Everything will work out just fine.”
Maybe if she said it loud enough, often enough, she’d start believing it herself. She needed to. In a hurry.
Her mother squeezed back. “I’ll be praying for you.” Joelle stiffened but quickly relaxed. Her mother had been a member of the same prayer group for years, and she herself had witnessed answers to many of their prayers.
Perhaps one day she’d start praying for herself again.
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Tell me what you think. Be kind but be honest.
Peace & Blessings,
Patricia
Peace & Blessings,
Patricia
Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.
