Spoiler Alert 1

Tune in next week for a chapter starring Clark Lewis Dangerpride, set in the mysterious place he's been all this time.... duh duh duh! Thanks for following! Tell your friends : )

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“…the whole church…”

Acts 5:11

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace sat in the front pew next to her Father at the Sunshine Salvation Valley Church started by her grandfather when he had come to Oregon with everything he had and a dream from God to start a church for the Western settlers so many years ago. The voice of the young reverend Holt rung throughout the church building as he spoke with passion and vigor about the Christian’s call to rejoice in the Lord always.

“There may come a time when your life is shattered by a tragedy, and everything in your life comes into question, but you must rejoice in the Lord always!”

“Amen,” Agatha’s father offered his wholehearted agreement to the minister’s words as several other parishioners echoed his sentiment. Agatha beamed at her father, she knew that he was one of the best Christians in town, and she was proud of the way he had continued rejoicing, even after losing Mama. He was always quick to encourage her to do the same, teaching her to count her blessings and look at things in a blindly positive way. She held her Bible and grandfather’s old journal tightly in place on her lap. The pastor’s words reminded her of one of her grandfather’s most profound entries; he had written it on the way to Oregon when the going was getting tough, and he was beginning to doubt his mission to bring the good news to the settlers who were also making the brave journey West. Agatha flipped through the thinned pages of the journal and found the entry:

June 22nd, 1864

The sun sure is hot today. Tabitha says she curses the day we left our comfortable home in Boston to make the long journey West. Our strongest Ox, Jacob’s Ladder, died on the trail today. The poor boy couldn’t take it any more, and he just dropped dead on the dusty trail. These plains remind me of the Valley of Dry Bones in Elijah, because I am a pastor. Little Isaac has come down with a cough. I hope he will pull through this, and grow up to be a strong farmer, maybe with a daughter, attending the church I started so many years earlier. It is visions and dreams like these that carry me on in addition to the vision of bringing Jesus to the godless settlers. They are all waiting for the hope I am bringing them. I hope I get there before the saloons do. So, despite the dead ox, cranky wife, sick son, and hopeless terrain, I am remembering today to rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again…

The wise words of her grandfather and the words of the pastor wove together in her head, a beautiful tapestry of grace. Agatha couldn’t imagine any trial that could take away her love for God and life. She thought of her dear Clarky, and wondered if he was sitting in church today, and whether he rejoiced in the Lord anymore. Agatha sighed and stared out the window of the church as if Clark would show up any second on his horse, summoned back by her thoughts of him. She shot up a quick prayer for Clark and his soul, turning her attention back to the service just in time to hear the minister’s closing words, “So rejoice today, children of God, no matter what happens in the plot er…your life!” Amen. “Stand with me and sing the closing hymn, #224.”

Reverend Holt had a strong tenor voice that led the congregation in the beautiful hymn, Amazing Grace, because what other hymn is there (besides Great is Thy Faithfulness and Be Thou My Vision, which they had already sung earlier in the service)? Agatha’s own melodious voice rose above the others in the congregation, she was known for her beautiful voice, and the surrounding parishioners all beamed at the beautiful girl and her beautiful heart. Agatha grabbed her father’s hand and clutched her mother’s locket with the other, having long ago memorized the hymns sung in church. The sun shone in the church windows warming Agatha’s face as she marveled at the inspiring force of the whole congregation with voices lifted in song. She knew this was her grandfather’s dream, and she reckoned she could be satisfied with this life for as long as the Lord kept her on the earth, in Sunshine Salvation Valley, in Abundance County Oregon.
As Agatha and her father exited the church building, she was startled by a voice…

TRUST ME NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AGGIE.

Because he was speaking in all caps, Agatha knew that it was God. She quickly answered the Lord in italics:

What God?

REJOICE IN ME ALWAYS, AND, SAY IT AGAIN, REJOICE.

I always will Father, I always will.

Agatha sighed, thankful for her father, her life, and her God. Her stomach rumbled as she anticipated the potluck the women of the church had prepared for them.

Clothing Line?

I think merch. is definitely the next step in this project.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“…getting drunk…”

1 Kings 16:9

8 years earlier (some other time in the 1800’s)

“Aggie, you’re it!” Clark tugged on Agatha’s blonde braid, initiating a game of tag.

“Clark!” He had already darted ahead across the prairie towards the mountains, ignoring Agatha’s protest. Clark and Agatha were best friends, and everyone in Sunshine Salvation Valley knew it. They were often seen darting across the prairie together or accompanying each other to pick out candy at the general store. Clark came by himself to the church Agatha’s grandfather had started when A.T. Freegrace had first come to Oregon earlier in the 1800’s. When Clark came, he often sat with Agatha and her father. Clark’s own father was the town drunk, and his mother ran their small family farm all by herself, run ragged. Everybody felt bad for the Dangerpride kids, solemn, hardworking Clark and his spitfire little sister Nina, always getting herself into trouble, but always looking up to her older, stronger brother. Clark kept his family problems to himself most of the time, but his eyes grew increasingly serious as he grew older, his countenance increasingly quiet. Clark was a handsome young boy with unruly dark hair. You could tell that if he ran away in about a year and then returned 7 years later that he would return looking like a more handsome, manly version of himself. Although, he’d probably look a little more dangerous and mysterious. He would also be taller.

In the last year, something had changed in Clark and Agatha’s friendship. Mainly, Agatha had decided she was in love with Clark, and that even if he decided to run away someday, she would wait for him forever. Agatha had not learned to pray in italics yet, so she had to pray aloud as she chased after the boy she loved.

“Dear God, I want to marry Clark Lewis Dangerpride some day and live on this prairie with him forever and ever.” Agatha sighed, a small sigh, but one that would mature to be a great asset to her character in later chapters… er years. “Clark! Wait up fer me! I aint got legs as long as yers.” Agatha’s voice comfortably fell into a slight southern accent, mostly for the whimsy of this chapter.

“Aggie, stop complaining and just come and catch me already!” Clark called back to her. As he was saying this, he suddenly stopped in his tracks at the sight of a figure staggering over from the mountains.

“Got ya.” Agatha said practically bowling over Clark. “I thought you said to stop complaining, and look at you giving up the very next second. Why Clark Lewis Dangerpide, I think you’ve chickened out! Imagine letting a girl come and beat you like that, well I say… “ Agatha noticed that Clark’s attention was far from her, which momentarily disappointed her, however, she became concerned when she noticed the pained expression in his eyes. “Clark what are you looking at? Why are you all solemmlike all of sudden? Clark?”

“My Dad.”

“Oh.” Because this is Christian fiction, the drunken father always shows up when their children are having the most fun. His appearance was particularly unusual because Clark’s family actually lived in the other direction, further away from the mountains. Yet, for narrative purposes, Clark’s father had shown up all the same, and just when Clark was letting himself feel like a young boy again, forgetting about the painful burdens he carried at such a young age.

“I hate him so much,” Clark said with anger in his voice.

“You shouldn’t talk about your father that way Clark, the bible tells us to honor our father and mother.” Agatha assumed Clark didn’t know this because he came from an unchurched family.

“Agatha! He hit me last night!” He could see the alarm on his friend’s face and immediately regretted giving her a peek into his dark family life. Her father would never hit her. He felt himself blushing with embarrassment.” You can’t tell anyone, not even your Pa.”

“Oh Clarky! Why would he do a thing like that? How could he?” She clutched at her mother’s locket and stared into the distance. This was a coping mechanism that she had been developing, but it often caused eyestrain and a nagging headache.

“Well I was helping at the Holt’s barn raising, and I got home late, and Dad started yelling at me and cussin,’ and well, I told him he was a lazy good for nuthin’ drunk and that I wished Ma would leave him.” Clark’s voice shook as tears threatened to drip down his tanned face. He was emotional, but not too emotional—certainly not unmanly. Agatha reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her handkerchief, the one she had embroidered along the bottom edge. “I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord,” it read in scrolling pink letters. She lifted the handkerchief to wipe the solitary tear that fell from one of Clark’s piercing eyes. She was wiping his tear, but also trying to get the handkerchief close enough to his face for him to read the words along the bottom edge. Token scripture always helped her in her own hard times. This same verse was written on the first page of her grandfather’s diary. When she read the verse, she imagined her grandfather’s deep voice filling each of the words. As she wiped the tear, she noticed with horror that she had mistakenly pulled out her evangelism handkerchief instead, which would certainly come into use later in this book…er her life, but she didn’t imagine that the verse from Romans “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” was of much comfort to her weepy friend. She quickly shoved the evangelism handkerchief back into her pocket and pulled out the correct supporting and encouraging handkerchief. Unfortunately, being the developing manly man that he was, Clark had only let a solitary tear from his eye, so she just fiddled with the handkerchief in hopes that he might see the words she had carefully stitched into the bottom.

“Come with me Aggie.” Agatha was startled to feel Clark’s warm palm in her hand. She thought it was kind of sweaty, but then realized she was the main character in a Christian romance novel, and decided that it was the most perfect moment ever. Their hands seemed destined from the beginning of creation to hold each other.

Agatha found herself being pulled into a small grove of trees that seemed to come out of nowhere—it worked really well as a hiding spot in the moment. “I’ve never been here before.” Agatha said with wonder in her voice. She didn’t really care where she was, because, as mentioned earlier, she was holding hands with Clark Lewis Dangerpride! She sighed, you know that sigh that she does, and clutched her locket with her available hand. “I come here sometimes, to be alone, to hide from him. Its my spot.” Clark led Agatha further into the trees.

“There are a lot of bugs here!” Agatha said with alarm.

“CLAAAAAarK!” The voice of Clark’s drunk father called right next to the clump of trees they were hiding in. Clark held his available finger in front of his mouth, signaling Agatha to keep silent. He squeezed her hand, which sent a rush of delight and joy through her person.

“CLAAARRRrk! I know you’re out here somewhere. Don’t make me call the sheriff. I’ll get your mother out here; I’ll get the whole town looking for you. I got some chores you need to see to and I never told you that you could come out and play today.” Clark’s father looked into the trees, inches away from Clark, who had conveniently pulled Agatha closer to him to hide her better from the searching eyes of his inebriated father. Agatha wished she had already learned to pray in italics so that she could thank God for this moment without Clark hearing. After his drunken examination of the small clump of trees, Bart Dangerpride staggered towards the Freegrace farm, still calling Clark’s name. “You’re not a boy anymore,” he yelled. “You’re not a boy anymore! ClaaaaaaRRRRrrrrK!”

The sky had grown particularly dark all of a sudden and Agatha clung tightly to Clark, she had never heard an angry person before. He loosed himself and pulled his knife out of his pocket. “Don’t tell anyone about this.” He took the leather sheath off his knife and began carving in the tree in front of him. Agatha breathed a sigh of relief as she had originally thought he was pulling a knife on her, which would throw him out of the eligible Christian husband category. “We’re going to be friends forever, and I’m carving it into this tree tonight, because no one else has seen my dad like that, besides my Momma and my sister Nina. You promise to be my friend forever Aggie?”

“Of course,” Agatha said breathlessly. Clark finished off his carving: Aggie + Clarky. Agatha could have handled a heart etched around their names, but for the moment, it was perfect. She ran her fingers over the rough bark, feeling the groove of Clark’s shallow carving. “Its perfect,” she said facing Clark. Clark had the look of a deer caught in lantern light. “What’s the matter Clarky?”

“Say, you ever been kissed a boy Aggie,” Clark stammered.

“Why no ...I…” Before Agatha could say another word about Christian virtue and purity, waiting for her knight in shining armor, abstinence, or her plan of having the local Indian tribe craft her a purity ring, Clark grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and planted a strong kiss on her porcelain cheek. He then let her go, looking into her bright blue eyes for a moment before getting up and running away. Agatha slowly brought her hand up to her left cheek to the place where Clark had pressed his lips and left a kiss. Agatha let out a squeal of delight, and then replayed the moment in her mind. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she remembered their whole evening together. If it weren’t for her protestant hygiene ethic, she would have resolved to never wash her left cheek again, to preserve the spot where Clark had left a bit of his saliva behind. Agatha glanced once more at the carving and then moved a low tree branch out of the way to watch Clark’s body running away in the distance.

One year later, she would watch him running away again, except for that time, he didn’t come back.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“…stood at the foot of the mountain …”

Deuteronomy 4:11

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace slowly woke at the base of the big tall oak tree in the small woods behind her family farm. She pulled the old diary she had fallen asleep reading off her chest and took a breath of the warm summer air. She slowly lifter herself off the ground, wiping off all the leaves and dirt that had collected on her long calico dress. She moved towards the clearing in the trees that lead to a small outcropping over a valley where Agatha could see her family’s land and the surrounding landscape. Agatha began to stare into the distance, the wind blowing her wispy blonde hair, her mind adrift.

She was surprised to see how low the sun hung in the sky. How long had she been dozing at the foot of the old oak, her place of escape. Fortunately, Agatha lived in a picturesque place that she could stare wistfully at while reflecting on God and her future spouse, whoever he might be. Just past the family farm, a range of mountains seemed to stand guard over the Freegrace family—Agatha took comfort in their large stony bodies and the expanse of prairie underneath. Agatha’s grandfather, A.T. Freegrace, had first brought his wife and three children out to Oregon to plant a church for all the new settlers. She clutched his old diary tighter in her hands thinking about the wise man that she had never knew. Back at the house, her Grandmother’s quilt lay at the foot of her bed; her Papa had given it to her for her 10^th birthday along with the journal, and they had been treasures ever since. She always thought the quilt meant something, about God and faith, but she had never been able to find out the secret message in its colorful pattern.

Agatha remembered that birthday long ago—Momma, the most beautiful woman in Sunshine Salvation Valley, beaming with pride as Papa brought the package out of the cellar. This was the last birthday Momma had been there, before the horse accident. A solitary tear fell down Agatha’s cheek as she remembered her mother. Everyone in Abundance County said she looked just like her Momma—the same blonde wispy hair, the porcelain skin, and her constant smile. Even as Agatha cried, she realized that the ends of her mouth still curved into her characteristic perma-smile. Come to mention it, her face kind of hurt from smiling all the time, and she was developing an eye headache from staring into the distance for so long. Yes, she had continued to stare at a fixed point in the distance this whole time. Oh well, she continued to look to the mountains and think about the past. Agatha reached for her mother’s locket that hung around her neck, but quickly turned this sad moment into a more optimistic one. She could live by Momma’s example and be a beautiful, wonderful wife to someone like Papa some day. She started to pray:

Dear God, thank you that any time I want to pray, all I have to do is go into italics. Please make me just like Momma, except, let me keep my blue eyes that I inherited from Papa, I don’t want Momma’s brown eyes. But in every other way, let me be a wonderful wife someday to a strong, brawny, Godly, smart, funny, but not too funny, serious, but not too serious, maybe plays the fiddle and calls our future children by affectionate nicknames, good at farming, likes to run through the prairie, fond of drawn out romantic moments, just enough rebellion to make him interesting, and more, man. Sigh.

Her mind wondered back to her tenth birthday. Clark was there. She remembered stretching the quilt across two chairs and playing church with Clark in their fort. She played the part of pastor, and Clark made all the showings of a loud conversion, like the ones her Papa would tell them about at the dinner table. Apparently, her grandfather had converted more people in Sunshine Salvation Valley, and in Abundance County on the whole, than just about anyone else that ever lived—second only to Jesus and maybe Paul. But anyway, she and Clark had spent hours of fun together, inseparable. He used to call her Aggie, which simultaneously drove her nuts, but also made her think that she might fall in love with him when they were older.

She hadn’t seen Clark in 7 years, since he’d left his abusive father and poor mother behind and ran away, probably East, North or South, as there wasn’t much room to go West. She wondered where he was now. Did he remember her and their childhood games? Had he kept his faith? How tall was he? Did he like beef stew? Agatha treasured all these things in her heart. Man, her legs were getting tired from standing and staring in the distance. Fortunately the loud, but tender, voice of her father awoke her out of her reverie, “AGATHA! AGATHA! Come in side, its getting late. We don’t want the Cy-otes to get ya!”

“Coming dearest Papa!” Agatha took one last fleeting glance at the tall mountains.

Oh Clark, wherever you are tonight, come back, I miss you. (Note, these italics aren’t for you God, but while I’m at it, Dear God, please bring Clarky back. Amen)

Back Cover of My Romance Novel

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace lived a wonderful life on her family farm in Sunshine Salvation Valley, in Abundance County Oregon (besides the fact that her Mom died when she was ten and her childhood best friend had been missing since she was thirteen). She enjoyed looking after her father, the son of a minister that had come out west to plant churches for the settlers. When Agatha's peaceful life on the Prairie, but also by the mountains, is shattered by a tragedy, everything in her life comes into question. Especially, when s mysterious stranger comes into town, who coincidentally looks like her childhood best friend Clark Dangerpride. Can she still believe in God when her world crumbles? Is there a secret meaning in the quilt her grandmother gave her that she will figure out after going through trials? Who is this mysterious stranger and why does he make her blush? Join Agatha Tabitha Freegrace on the prairies, and also the mountains, of Oregon as she learns about God, possibly falls in love, and finds out about Abounding Love, Grace, Hope, and Joy.

Stay tuned for the first chapter of my daring pilgrimage into the genre that I love to hate and sometimes, love to read when no one is watching. I got a huge stack of Christian Romance novels from the library by scanning for the little white "Inspirational," "Christian Romance," or "Christian Historical Fiction" labels placed on the spine of these books. I like to think of it as research. I have also ordered Right Behind, a parody of the Left Behind books, for further inspiration. One of the books I saw at the bookstore had a main character named Mavice Thoroughgood, so I don't know if my main character's name, Agatha Tabitha Freegrace, is extreme enough. I am having fun exploring the stock aspects of this genre--this is going to be fun. I am thinking of superimposing my head on a picture of a girl on the prairie, because it seems like it is customary to have a picture of a girl on the cover who does not match any of the physical descriptions of the main character of the book. I also love how most of the novels are set in the nebulous "1800's," which happens to be a very diverse CENTURY! I am excited. Here is the summary on the back of one of the books I am reading as "research:"

Bluebonnet Belle by: Lori Copeland

"Trouble in Texas--A battle of wills was raging in the Lone Star State in 1876. April Truitt didn't trust doctors, least of all handsome newcomer Gray Fuller, who opposed her efforts to offer the women of Dignity, Texas, an herbal alternative to surgery. He treated her like some quack, but April was determined to save other women from dying on the operating table, like her mother did.

Gray couldn't help admiring April's spirit and good intentions. Yet he couldn’t let this bluebonnet belle steal all his patients . . . even if she was on her way to stealing his heart."