Greetings from a unusually chilly San Diego! My newest work, Redeeming Cain, has been completely penned. I am presently in the tedious work of editing the manuscript-hopefully I'll be done sometime this Spring. Below you'll find an exerpt from Maggie; the sentimental mother of the story's protagonist, Sean. Here's the setting: The family is playing an evening round of miniture golf together. Let me know what you think. Take care!
The voice of Maggie Davis as found in an excerpt from chapter three of Redeeming Cain:
As the boys and me walk back to the rental booth to replace Tim's triple bogey, I rub him briskly on his bony right arm and clutch him close to my side, subconsciously relieved he didn't fall into that dirty water.
Then Sean asks me, “Is Dad coming?”
“I'm not sure,” is my answer.
Rick was supposed to join us, though he's been working so hard lately. That darn McKinley case. It's always some case, one after another after another. Poor guy. He'll probably be too tired to come. I don't blame him. He's been saying how he wants to leave the firm soon and do something else. Exactly what, he's unsure of, but something-anything else. The funner and riskier, the better, he says. And he isn't one to just up and quit like that. He's serious, and I'm proud of him for it. It's kind of a turn on. So we'll have to see wha-.
“Oh! Nice one, dude!” I exclaim to Sean in a terribly desperate attempt at sounding cool.
Then I seamlessly segue into an inquiry I've been muling over in my mind for the past few weeks: “So, how's your senior project coming along?” the hopes that he'll finish it as smoothly and as effectively as the hole-in-one he just sank evident in the timbre of my voice.
“Mom, you just asked me about that three days ago,” he huffed, exasperated that his moment of glory was so short-lived.
I ask, “Did I? Oh, I'm sorry. I don't remember.”
“It's alright. I'm almost done. I'm gonna ask Mr. Tucker to be my sponsor.”
“That's right, you did tell me that,” I acknowledge. “Sounds good.”
I can't believe my oldest is already about to graduate from high school. Wow. Where did the time go? To think he'll be off at college this time next year, wrapping up his freshman year. He's such a bright kid. He's got a lot going for him. The next few weeks are going to be a whirlwind for him.
I'm thinking once Sean's gone and Timmy gets older and moves out, maybe Rick and I'll sell the house and move into some little, cute place out in the country. Or perhaps we'll start saving up now and travel the world. We never did have a honeymoon. And I've always wanted to go to Tahiti . . . I don't know. But we want to do something.
It's amazing how intertwined we all are-what Sean and Tim do, what they get or don't get into-has such an effect on what Rick and I end up doing. Or not doing. When your kids are in a state of transition, you can't help but go along for the ride with them. Sean's almost grown now. So it would seem a whole new phase of life is starting for us, too.
As the boys finish their game-Sean beating Timmy but not by as much as I would've thought, (Timmy's getting better!), we walk back to the booth and check their clubs and balls back in. Then we make our way to the makeshift dining area where we order a large pepperoni pizza, an order of spicy buffalo wings, and a pitcher of Coke. Sean fusses over Timmy nabbing the biggest pizza slice. Timmy pours too much soda into his red plastic cup, its overflow spreading across the table top and instantly saturating a tall stack of clean, white napkins; over this Sean, too, fusses. I bite into a chicken drummette and realize my palette for spicy foods isn't the same as it was when I was Sean's age. I nibble only passively at the tiny leg before finally and completely giving up and trying my hand at a sliver of pizza. And both with swollen mouths full of gummy, half-eaten food, the boys argue about whether Sean golfed fairly or cheated to gain victory-his actions on hole #17 falling under particular scrutiny. They're loud. They're tiring.
And I'd have it no other way.