Writing for Love

ii

Writing

For Love

Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes

© 2014 Writing for Love

by Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes

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Binghamton, NY

dbrdesigns1@gmail.com

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CreateSpace, Charleston SC

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may

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transmitted in any form or by any means –

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in printed reviews.

Writing for Love / Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes

ISBN-13: 978-1505397567

ISBN-10: 1505397561

Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are

from the NIV Bible.

Cover art: depositphotos.com

Cover design: Jimmy Gibbs

DEDICATION

There is a Prince Charming in every woman’s

dream. In mine, there is Karl.

i

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“For it is God who works in you to will and to act

according to his good purpose” Philippians 2:13.

2

PROLOGUE

Willow Pichard sauntered down the aisle

between the row of books at the bookstore on the

corner of 15th Street and 5th Avenue. It was her

afternoon off and she had plenty of time to look for

the perfect birthday gift for her best friend’s

daughter, Julia. As she reached for the illustrated

children’s book Practice Makes Perfect, Willow

accidentally collided with someone also reaching

for the same book. The collision sent the handful of

books and handbag crashing to the floor. The

contents of her bag spilled and sprawled at the

stranger’s feet. Willow groaned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. She knelt to retrieve her

belongings, and he knelt too - facing her.

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“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have paid

more attention to what I was doing,” he insisted, as

he collected some of her books.

He glanced at her briefly, contemplated for a

second, then looked at her again - this time a little

longer before turning away. She looked at him too.

She had seen that lean strong jaw which framed that

handsome face somewhere before. His face was

relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched

slightly, as if he was smothering a smile. His lips

were nicely shaped, almost as if someone took the

time to carefully and lovingly sculpt them for his

face. The phrase “fearfully and wonderfully made”

sprang to mind, and she found herself staring at

them. They were perfect - more like beautiful,

actually. Then they parted in a smile and became

even more gorgeous.

“I believe these belong to you,” they were saying.

It took Willow a second or two to realize that the

stranger kneeling in front of her was talking to her.

And here she was staring at his lips! Startled to find

him watching her, she quickly took the books he

had retrieved for her. She looked down and noted

that her journal was open on her one and only

journal entry:

BUCKET LIST

(1) Meet my own Prince Charming (enough with

my lonely life already)!

She stared at the page. Willow could feel her

cheeks burn in embarrassment. If the floor could

simply open up and swallow her, she’d appreciate

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it! She quickly snapped the book shut and stuffed it,

along with the rest of her belongings, into the

handbag. Willow didn’t dare look up as she said:

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” The voice was silky and

smooth, almost as if it was willing her to look at its

owner.

Did he see her journal entry? Why do these

embarrassing things keep happening to her?

Already standing, he extended a helping hand

with long, lean fingers. But before she could grasp

it, Willow was interrupted by a stern voice:

“What’s this?”

Tastefully applied makeup, expensive clothing,

and long lean legs like stilts, emerging from the

short, dark grey tweed skirt were all Willow saw

from her stooped position. A leather handbag

dangled flawlessly from the diamond studded wrist.

The woman towering above, about thirty-five,

grabbed the man’s outstretched hand which was still

extended towards Willow and commanded: “Let’s

go Chad.”

He immediately extricated his long fingers from

the woman’s grasp and offered his hand again to

Willow, who by now had managed to slowly stand

to her feet. As if on cue, an explosion of pins and

needles coursed through Willow’s legs. She teetered

forward and fell against his chest! Strong arms

reached out and held the small of her back. Despite

the pain and the rubbery feeling in her legs, Willow

felt comfortable using him as a support until the

pain in her legs subsided. However, Willow winced

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when she saw the steely dark brown eyes of the

woman watching her intently.

Quickly she pulled away, but his hand remained

and kept her in that position.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. My feet just went to sleep for a little, but

they are okay now,” she answered as she pried

herself from his grasp.

“Chad, we have to go!” The woman’s tone was

clipped with anger.

Chad ignored her. His brown eyes rested on

Willow’s pleading ones.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” Willow said, wanting to be

away from him and his obviously jealous wife or

girlfriend.

Chad released her slowly, and Willow took a

step backwards, purposely distancing herself from

his warm embrace and inviting smile.

“Thanks again,” she said and with that she turned

and walked away, willing her tingling legs to make

one sure step after another.

She didn’t dare look back. She didn’t want to see

the woman’s penetratingly angry glare; but most of

all she didn’t want to be caught in Chad’s

enchanting gaze.

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CHAPTER 1

Willow screamed.

There it was again! She wasn’t mistaken. She

had definitely felt it the first time!

Her fishing line jerked again, and this time she

jumped to her feet.

“I’ve got it!” she bellowed.

“Stop screaming,” her best friend Jenna called

from a yard away. “You’ll scare away the fish!”

“Scare away what fish?” Willow shrieked. “I've

already caught him! Help me reel him in!”

They were in Brooklyn at Prospect Park with

Jenna’s six year old daughter Julia for a fun day of

fishing. The Annual Prospect Park Fishing Contest

was an event they planned for each year.

She stood on the edge of the pond, straining to

see the fish she had caught beneath the murky

waters. The pond was covered with green moss and

it was hard to see any form of life below. Whatever

she caught, must be pretty big because it tugged

hard on the line.

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“There it goes again! Help me Jenna!”

Julia squealed, “Get it Aunt Willow! Get the

fish!”

Willow tugged and spun the handle of the reel.

The fish tugged. She tugged. Her toes were now at

the water’s edge and it seeped into her sneakers.

Ignoring the wet shoes, Willow concentrated her

efforts on reeling in the stubborn fish while

wondering why Jenna was ignoring her call for help.

Suddenly, large hands covered hers and strong

fingers moved with hers to wind the reel steadily,

winding and releasing almost simultaneously.

With arms around her, he was close enough for

Willow to feel his muscular chest against her back.

The strong scent of his cologne tickled her nose.

“You have to reel him in slowly, then release the

line a little. That way he’ll fight less,” a husky voice

whispered in her ear.

His breath touched the edge of her ear and

traveled down the side of her neck, losing itself in

the collar of her jacket. She shuddered as goose

pimples marched up her arm and toward her hairline.

“T-t-thank you,” she stuttered.

“No problem. Glad to help,” he said, his cheek

almost touching hers. “Now let’s reel this baby in.”

They worked together, and the fish came in

obediently, wriggling happily on the line. Willow

held up her prize, which was no more than 12

inches long.

“A yellow perch,” her helper said.

“Yes. Today is my lucky day.” She turned to

face him, and stopped. His face was vaguely

familiar.

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“Yes it is! I hear not many people catch yellow

perch in these ponds.” He extended his hand. “Great

to meet you again.”

Willow took his hand and shook it briefly, trying

to remember where she had seen him before.

“The bookstore on 15th and 5th,” he reminded

her. “We reached for the same book and your books

fell...”

He allowed his voice to trail off as he gave her

time to recollect the scene he alluded to.

“Aunt Willow you caught the fish!” Julia

bounded forward. “Can I see it? Can I see it?”

Willow turned to fulfill Julia's request while still

looking at the stranger’s face.

“Hi there,” said Jenna, who had now joined them,

looking from Willow to the stranger and back again.

“Hi,” he responded, taking Jenna’s hand in a

brief handshake. “My name is Chad. Pleased to

meet you.”

Chad! That’s it! Chad from the bookstore! She

blushed and her heart skipped a beat momentarily.

So, he remembered her! This world was way too

small! Willow thought. What are the odds?

“Oh yes,” she said, extending her hand again. “I

remember you from the bookstore. My name is

Willow.”

“Oh! The bookstore guy!” Jenna piped up.

Willow cringed. Leave it to Jenna to embarrass her!

He grasped Willow’s hand a second time and

this time he smiled down at her like someone with a

secret. Blushing, Willow recalled her journal which

had unceremoniously opened that day to her one

item on her bucket list. As she pulled her hand away,

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Willow wondered if that’s why he was grinning so

much.

“Well Chad,” she said. “Thanks so much for

your help in reeling in that fish.”

“No problem at all.’ His brown eyes bored

through her.

“I'll remember what you said about reeling in

and releasing the next time I cast out my line,” she

rambled on. She felt Julia tugging on her sleeve.

“Yes sweetie,” Willow turned her attention to the

little girl.

“I want to take a picture with the fish,” she said,

eagerly coming in between Willow and Chad.

“Hey, that’s a good idea,” he said. “I’ll take the

picture of you ladies and your prize. Just stand over

by the tree.”

Chad instructed them on how to pose with their

catch and he clicked away with Jenna’s iPhone and

Willow’s tablet. Willow noted that he took a photo

with his phone too, then to her dismay Jenna

suggested that he should take a photo with Willow

and the fish, since he helped her reel it in.

Although she protested, neither Chad nor Jenna

were listening, and they switched places leaving

Willow holding the fish and her other hand on

Julia’s shoulder. Chad took his place beside her,

beaming. He placed an arm around her waist and

put the other hand on Julia’s shoulder.

“Smile,” he told her, and then he gave her the

most dazzling smile, even his eyes twinkled.

At that moment she thought “I like him”, and

then was shocked that she even had such a thought

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that she looked up in dismay and horror just when

Jenna said “Ok. Cheese!”

She heard the camera on her tablet clicked, and

the photo was taken.

“Smile for goodness sake Willow!” Jenna chided,

and Willow blushed the same time Jenna said

“Cheese” again, and she saw that her photo was

again taken, this time on Chad’s phone!

Meanwhile, Willow could feel his hand hot on

her waist. She wriggled to free herself of his grasp,

but wind up unbalanced just when Julia broke free

and ran to her Mom. Chad put his hand out to right

her, and she ended up in his arms, fish and all! He

held her in the traditional ‘dip kiss’ position and

passers-by whistled at them. Once again she heard

the click of a camera, and then another one, and

Jenna’s and Julia’s giggles.

“Um....sorry,” she uttered as he helped her regain

her footing. “So sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said. Grinning, he slowly

released her.

Blushing profusely, Willow hobbled her way

over to Jenna. Through gritted teeth, she demanded:

“Why did you take the photo?”

Grinning, Jenna retorted, “And why not?”

“Whose phone did you take the last photo on?”

“On Chad’s.”

Willow’s heart raced suddenly. "Are you crazy?”

Chad gave a throaty laugh from behind her.

“Thanks Jenna,” he said. “Those photos will surely

remind me of the great people I met today.”

“But...but..” Willow began.

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“Don’t worry about it,” he said, turning to her.

“It’s all in good fun.”

Jenna handed him his phone and he slipped it in

his pant pocket; away from Willow who was hoping

to persuade him to delete the images. She

remembered the foxy vixen he had on his arm that

day in the bookstore. She surely didn't want to

contend with that woman again! Well, it’s just as

well since they weren't going to see each other

again. Thank God!

“Well. It was great meeting all of you,” Chad’s

voice broke through her reverie. He shook hands

with Jenna first, then her, and tousled Julia’s hair.

“Enjoy your fish Willow,” he said.

“Do you want to share our lunch?” Julia piped

up.

Willow cringed and held her breath.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said to the little girl.

“I have to meet someone.”

The foxy vixen, no doubt, Willow thought.

“Oh...” a sigh of disappointment escaped Julia’s

lips. Willow exhaled too, hers a sigh of relief.

He tousled Julia’s hair again and walked away,

turning once to wave goodbye.

Willow watched his back for a moment or two,

the sunshine playing happily on his light autumn

jacket highlighting his muscular form beneath it,

and the jeans hugging his slim hips quite snugly.

“Great specimen of a man,” Jenna said.

“Jenna,” Willow turned her attention to her

friend. “I didn’t like what you did.”

“What?”

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“Don’t play innocent. Do you remember the

bookstore incident?” Jenna nodded. “You remember

I told you about the woman hanging onto his arm?

What if she sees the photos?”

“So?”

“How would you like it if your boyfriend or

husband took a photo like that with some woman?”

Ignoring her question, Jenna said: “You’re not

some woman Willow. You’re the person he helped

fishing. Plus, he wouldn't have taken the first photo

with his phone if he didn’t want photos.”

Willow snorted. “You put me in a weird position

Jenna, that’s all I’m saying.”

“What position?” Jenna asked. “You plan on

seeing him again? He doesn’t even have your

number.”

Willow was silent for a moment. Jenna did have

a point. She wasn’t going to see him again, so what

was she worrying about. Plus he looked like an

intelligent man who knew how to avoid trouble; he

probably deleted the photos already!

Reiterating her thoughts, Jenna stated: “You

realized, he probably deleted those photos already

right? Who’d keep photos of strangers on their

phone anyway?”

Willow playfully pushed her friend who pushed

her back and smiled. Putting the fish on the ice in

the igloo, Willow hoped that Jenna was right.

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CHAPTER 2

Fear.

There was no more room left in her life for fear.

She’ll have it no more.

Faith.

There was only a small amount of faith left.

She’ll have more of that!

Conquering fear and standing up to see her glass

half-full is something Willow Pichard vowed to put

into practice. But her circumstances seemed bent on

reminding her that it is easier said than done.

Take this morning for example. It’s November 1,

the first day of NYC Novelist of the Year Contest

for New Authors, and her computer refused to

cooperate.

Willow Pichard banged on the keys.

Frustrated!

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A slow computer, a sleep deprived brain, and a

hungry stomach were certainly not the right

components needed to create the ideal formula to

begin what is supposed to be the most productive

morning of her life!

Today begins a new era in her life; she would

enter the local Novelist of the Year Contest for New

Authors. At least that's what she told herself this

morning at her early morning pep talk in front of the

bathroom mirror. Well, more like she talked herself

into it. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to let the

chance slip away because her wayward computer

refused to cooperate!

Willow looked at the screen, and silently willed

the cursor to cease from chasing itself. When she

couldn’t endure it any longer, she groaned and got

up in a sudden burst of energy. Overwhelmed by the

sudden onslaught of hunger pangs, she headed for

the kitchen; retrieving the tablet from the dining

table on her way there. Jenna had sent her an email.

She gasped when she opened it.

There she was, perched in Chad’s arms clutching

the fish and him leaning over her as if he was about

to kiss her. Anyone looking at the photo, without

knowing the details of the events, would think they

were more than just strangers! Well, at least she

wouldn't have to see him again, and by now she

hoped that Chad had deleted the photos. What had

come over her yesterday? Somehow, she had fallen

captive to his smile.

Willow shook her head. No time for

daydreaming! There was work to be done!

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She had been up for ages, and wanted to get the

first wave of early morning inspirations and fresh

ideas down before she forgot details. She should

have gone with her gut feeling, and write her ideas

in her journal instead of on her laptop. Now she had

only some words down, and the rest she had already

forgotten in her frustration!

Writing for the NYC’s Annual Local Novelist of

the Year Writing Contest for New Authors hosted

by Wickham Publishing was an honor, and

something she had always wanted to do, but never

had the courage to even attempt it. Although the

contest is local, there are thousands of authors in

NYC with which she’ll have to compete against.

With only 30 days and 60,000 or more words to

write, Willow could feel her anticipation mounting.

A week ago she had given herself a ‘pep-talk’ to be

bold and step out the box. Her writing was in a box

too, and she wanted to break that mundane writing

stint she was in.

Willow put the kettle on and turned the front

right burner to high. A nauseating wave of putrid

gas odor wafted to her nose. She quickly turned the

dial off and opened the kitchen window. She had

forgotten it was broken. It was just another thing in

her life that didn’t work.

Nothing seemed to work in her house, and there

was no money to fix anything. Her weekly pay at

The Hollow, the restaurant attached to the

Wickhollow Hotel on 75th and 2nd, was just

enough for food and her living expenses. Her extra

money came from tips, and freelance writing. She

wrote short stories and articles for magazines and e-

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zines. But, she hadn’t have a writing project in

months, and now the stack of bills were piling high

on her kitchen counter and broken things were

urgently in need of repair. Her prayers seem to go

unanswered too. It was as if God had forgotten that

she existed. But deep down she knew it was her

lack of faith that stood in the way.

Sighing, Willow quickly lit the back burner and

moved the kettle there. Her pathetic life was enough

to make her depressed, but she refused to look at the

glass half-empty. Something has got to give, she

knew that. There were so many things to be repaired

and amended in her life; she had no idea where to

start. Broken! That’s how she felt. Ever since her

parents passed away two years ago in a boating

accident, her life was never the same. However,

after being dragged by Jenna to the Real Faith

seminar six months ago, Willow’s attitude was

beginning to change.

The sudden high-pitched shrieking of the kettle

broke Willow out of her reverie. She turned the

burner off and poured the hot water into the waiting

mug. Her parents would have been proud to know

that she was about to take the biggest step in

realizing her dream as a writer; especially her

mother, who had always encouraged her to write.

“I’m going to make you proud Mom,” she said,

determinedly.

Willow returned to the den with her tea. Her

computer screen was still frozen, but now she only

smiled at it and reached into her father’s desk

drawer and pulled out her journal. Determined not

to let the computer slow her down, she decided to

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write in her journal instead. Willow curled up on the

sofa by the window with the steaming mug of tea

beside her on the coffee table. She began to write.

A wave of relief came over her when her ideas

and inspirations came flooding back in one swift

memory. She only had 30 days to write this novel,

and by God she was going to do it!

With her ideas penned to paper, she read them

over. They were great ideas but they were scattered

ones; nothing was cohesive due to the lack of a

story plot. On a blank page, she wrote the date

November 1st, and then stared at it. She had no plot.

All she knew was that she wanted to write a

romance drama about Queen Esther of the Bible.

But how to start? She could just write in her journal

what comes to mind; surely that’s one way of

approaching the task at hand. She had nothing to

lose plus when she was in college, didn’t the

professors give exercises like that anyway -

impromptu writing they called it.

Her tea was gone now and the morning sun was

streaming through the window of the den. Even

impromptu writing wasn’t easy. How should she

begin? What sentence should she belt out first onto

her blank page?

She stared outside. Even though it was sunny, it

was windy and cold. The early morning frost was

condensing on the window pane. Hey! Why didn’t

she start with that?

“When in doubt, set your scene,” her creative

writing professor used to say.

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Well, why not? Scenery could be placed

anywhere that’s appropriate in the story. Willow

smiled. Her tension eased.

PROLOGUE, she wrote.

It was a windy and cold day. The early morning

frost was beginning to condense on the window

panes of the palace, she wrote.

The palace? Was this the direction her story was

heading? Well, she’d just have to keep going to see

where it would end up!

Princess Leah stared out the window; a single

tear rolled down her cheek and fell noiselessly to

the floor. Her determination to wed the king was

getting her nowhere, and her well-laid plans were

finally taking a toll on her. Servants scurried out of

her way when she approached. She knew she had

been barking orders and screaming at everyone,

except the king of course, but she didn’t care. She

had lost. All her shenanigans and plans to betroth

King Xerxes were going up in smoke with the

announcement of the Fair Maiden Contest.

Willow smiled. She liked that; a Fair Maiden

Contest! She continued.

Two months ago, King Xerxes held a party at

court and invited all his princes and nobles of his

provinces, and counselors of his kingdom. For

seven days the king and the men of his court drank

wine; and in a drunken stupor, he sent for Queen

Vashti to present her at court for his lords to look

upon her pulchritude. But Queen Vashti sent word

with her attendants of her refusal to honor the

drunken king’s request.

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Of course, at the time Princess Leah and all the

other women of the court were in attendance at the

queen’s banquet. However, she heard from her

cousin Prince Jehudi that the king’s court was in an

uproar at Queen Vashti’s refusal. Immediately the

court was calling for Queen Vashti’s removal from

the royal palace. And so, in one quick drunken

decision, King Xerxes announced that Queen Vashti

was no longer his wife and ordered that she should

be banished from the palace!

Princess Leah smiled at the memory as she ran

her fingers over the frosted window pane. She could

still hear her cousin’s words:

“Can you imagine!” he had said. “She refused

the king, and before his royal court at that!”

Princess Leah wondered if she would have done

differently. She shook her head. This was certainly

not the time to ponder such things. Queen Vashti

and her entourage have long left the palace! This

was her opportunity to become Queen of the citadel

at Suza and all of Persia! With the help of her

parents, she was invited into the King’s presence to

visit for a month, so he may court her. But now,

Willow’s pen paused momentarily, and she clicked

the pen against her teeth. But now what? She

pondered for a moment, and then she continued...

yesterday the King announced that a Fair Maiden

Contest will be held in the court to decide who

would be his bride!

And he was audacious enough to send written

word to inform her of his plans. She can still

remember the letter word for word.

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“My Dear Princess Leah,” it said. “Upon the

advice of the counselors of my kingdom, I have

agreed to hold a Fair Maiden Contest, of which I

am requesting that you also will be a participant.

What better way to get to know you, than through a

Fair Maiden Contest. It will begin in two weeks. My

advisor Haman will give your attendants all the

necessary details. Faithfully, King Xerxes of Persia

and one hundred and twenty-seven provinces.”

“Confound the contest!” Princess Leah had

snorted then, not caring who heard her. She had

crumpled the letter and stomped on it in rage, and

when her attendant Mika gasped at her audacious

trampling of the King’s seal underfoot, she stopped

and mindlessly threw herself on the bed in tears.

Now she must come up with a plan. This was

King Xerxes’ way of refusing her! He hid behind the

tradition of holding a Fair Maiden Contest. If he

wanted to marry her he could have! There was no

need for a contest. Then he told her that she too

could enter the contest, if she so desired! Unheard

of! A princess competing with common girls to wed

a king? Princess Leah had her pride, and her pride

dictated that no way was a commoner going to

usurp her intended betrothed and throne! Well, it

won’t end like this and may the gods help the

maiden who stands in her way and dares to win this

contest!

21

CHAPTER 3

Willow stopped and read what she wrote.

Laughing, she said aloud to the empty room

“Interesting where a cold and windy day could lead

you!”

She had no plans of stopping. Fear, she would

conquer with action! So Willow forged ahead.

CHAPTER ONE, she wrote.

Twenty year old Esther stood transfixed as King

Xerxes’ nobleman, Haman, announced that a Fair

Maiden Contest will be held to determine the future

wife of the King. As a matter of fact, the entire town

stood transfixed in the town’s square, some with

their mouths agape. The last Fair Maiden Contest

was held about 100 years ago! Fair Maiden

Contests are only held at the request of the Crown

Prince or the present King.

Now here was Haman, standing in front of them,

announcing that King Xerxes is intending to take a

bride from amongst one of them! Esther looked

down at her plain, well-worn clothes and at the

other young women around her, and thought:

“Absurd! What would he want with one of us?”

“What about Princess Leah?” Her eighteen year

old friend Rebecca, whispered.

Esther shrugged. Everyone expected Princess

Leah to be the next Queen. She was beautiful,

sophisticated, a childhood companion and friend of

the king, and more suited for him. As if reading her

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22

thoughts, Haman said loudly over the din of

questioning voices:

“Princess Leah will also enter the contest, and

the fairest maiden who shows exceptional skills will

be chosen.”

Absurd! The King has lost his mind!

“He has lost his mind!” Rebecca echoed aloud.

“How does he expect us to compete with Princess

Leah?”

“The contest rules and its events will be posted

on the town-square board. All maidens ages 18 to

20 must enter, there will be no exceptions,” Haman

said, curtly. He gazed on each maiden as if to note

each face. Esther shuddered. Something about his

gaze made her uneasy, and she rubbed her arms to

get rid of the goose pimples as his eyes met hers

and lingered on her. Esther quickly looked away.

In the midst of hundreds of questions being

tossed about, Haman and his royal party exited the

town’s square. No one wanted to go back to work;

everyone stood around talking and asking questions

which no one had answers to. Esther and Rebecca

walked away from the scene, back to their vegetable

and fruit stalls in the market. Both went silently,

still in shock from the announcement. Esther had

heard of stories of long ago about common girls

who had been selected to become queens, but never

in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d be

able to enter such a contest in her lifetime! Her

mother and grandmother used to tell her stories of

maidens being chosen, not for their looks but for

their talents. What was her talent? Her cousin

Mordecai have always commended her cooking and

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once in a while she sold her baked goods at the

market. They went fast! Everyone liked her baked

goods. She could cook for the King.

Esther shook her head to clear the absurd

images of King Xerxes finding delight in her baked

cornmeal, a food for poor people made from

cornmeal, milk, meat, and herbs. Or would he find

delight in her baked scones? What was she

thinking; no one could and would dare to compete

with Princess Leah!

“Fresh vegetables! Fresh fruits and baked

goods!” Esther shouted. “Come this way!”

“Do we really have to enter the contest?” Esther

asked Rebecca as they served customers who were

returning to the marketplace. “What is the purpose

of this contest? None of our maidens will be chosen

anyway!”

“Maybe King Xerxes does not desire to wed

Princess Leah,” Rebecca said.

“Are you thinking straight? Have you seen

Princess Leah?” Esther asked.

Turning to a customer with a tattered, torn hood

pulled almost halfway over his face, she asked

“What can I help you with sir?”

Was he a thief? Why was his face half-shrouded

as if he were hiding from someone? Esther

wondered. Brown eyes watched her from under the

dirty hood. They were kind ones. Thieves do not

have kind eyes, she thought and smiled at him.

“What are these?” he asked, pointing to her

scones.

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24

“You must be new around these parts if you do

not recognize Esther’s famous scones!” Rebecca

piped up. Esther nudged Rebecca in the rib.

“Ouch!” Rebecca cried.

“Would you like to try one?” Esther asked the

stranger, ignoring Rebecca.

He nodded and she handed him a scone. He bit

into to it and his eyes lit up. “This is good!” he

remarked.

“What did I tell you?” yelled Rebecca. “No one

can resist Esther’s scones! Even the king himself

wouldn’t be able to resist it if he were to try one!”

Esther scoffed at the remark. “The King

wouldn’t know what to do with my scone even if it

hit him upside the head!” Everyone laughed. “I

mean, who banishes his wife forever because she

refuses to come to him? He doesn’t seem to know

when he has a good thing!”

“Maybe he did it so he could marry Princess

Leah,” someone said.

“Then why have the contest?” asked Rebecca.

She placed her fruits and vegetables in a customer’s

basket. Then she took the money and counted it.

The man shrouded in the tattered hood said,

“Did you not hear? Queen Vashti wronged him.”

Esther bristled. “What? She hurt his pride?”

“Esther,” Rebecca warned.

“Bah! Men and their pride,” she said.

“Surely you know that no one refuses audience

with the King,” the shrouded man said. The crowd

nodded in agreement.

“He was drunk, for goodness sake!” Esther said.

“What was his reason for summoning her to the

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25

court? To parade her in front of the men of the

court?”

“Esther,” Rebecca tugged at her arm.

The shrouded man spoke again. “Maybe he was

proud of his queen and wanted to show off her

beauty.”

Esther looked at him in exasperation. “Isn’t it so

typical of men to want to do that? Is the queen an

object to be put on a pedestal and be adored and

ogled by men? Isn’t she human with feelings like the

rest of us?”

The crowd went quiet, but the women nodded in

agreement. The man in the shroud went quiet too.

She noted that he had finished the scone and was

watching her closely. For the second time for the

day, she shuddered at a man’s gaze. However,

unlike Haman’s, his gaze was not repulsive.

“Now our maidens must pose for the King too?”

she continued. “Not that we want to either! I

certainly would not want to entertain a spoiled

king! I’m sorry for the poor girl he chooses; she’ll

feel so out of place,” Esther asserted.

“Esther!” Rebecca shouted.

“What?” She turned to her friend who was now

beside herself with worry.

“The Palace has spies,” Rebecca whispered

through gritted teeth.

For a moment Esther’s heart gave a sudden jolt

with fear. Maybe she had said too much. Rebecca

always warned her that one day her mouth would

get her into trouble. She hoped today was not the

day!

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26

Several customers had received their produce

and were wandering off to the next stall, some still

in conversation. As the crowd slowly dispersed,

Esther noticed that the man in the torn hood was

still standing there.

“I’d like to buy some scones please,” he said,

handing her coins.

“Sure,” she said and served him a dozen

wrapped in cheesecloth. Then she placed an extra

one in the package. “That’s for safe travel.” She

smiled at him, and wondered where he came from;

for she really hadn’t seen him before in her village.

His fingers touched hers as he took the scones

from her, and the goose pimples crept along

Esther’s arm. Something about his eyes appealed to

her; they were a bit haunted like a man waiting for

something. She could tell he was older than her,

maybe about thirty; and though his gaze pierced

through hers, he seemed friendly. She was about to

ask him his name when Hanna-belle approached

them.

“Hello girls, with my beautiful face and my

enchanting singing voice, I will captivate the heart

of the King in no time, and I will be your next

Queen.” Hannah-belle’s nauseating sing-song

voice chimed in above the din of voices in the

marketplace as she sauntered up to their stalls.

“You’ll have to get past Princess Leah first,”

Rebecca mimicked.

Hannah-belle was the daughter of the local tax

collector, Ruele. No one liked her, to say the least,

and her continuous dribble about herself and her

‘marvelous’ singing voice has been the annoying

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27

factor that kept Esther and Rebecca from

befriending her.

“I can stand up any day to Princess Leah and be

an equal match. I may not be royalty but my family

is of noble standing,” she scoffed.

“A tax collector is not nobility Hannah-belle.

There is nothing noble about the profession.”

Esther said in an exasperated voice, because at

least ten times per month Esther had to remind

Hanna-belle that she was not of noble standing.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said before she was called

away to rejoin her family.

“Tiresome,” Rebecca muttered. “Imagine

thinking that she’s of noble birth!”

Esther turned to ask the stranger his name and

noticed he was gone. She looked around but

couldn’t see above the heads of the people

swarming into the marketplace. She returned her

attention to new customers. As she served them,

Esther wondered about Hannah-belle’s words - she

might not be nobility but the fact that her family

belonged to a different social class is a truth they

cannot deny. Esther decided that she wouldn’t put

too much effort in this contest. The sooner it was

over the better, and then they could move on with

their lives. Poor girls like her don’t marry kings and

become royalty overnight. She chided herself for

being hopeful in the impossible. It may have

happened hundreds of years ago, but these days the

rich doesn’t even want to be seen in the company of

the poor. Yes, the sooner this contest was done, the

better. Then she could get on with her life.

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28

That night Cousin Mordecai and Aunt Merta

said their goodbyes, because the next morning the

palace caravans would come to take the maidens to

the palace. Aunt Merta was distressed; the most

melancholy Esther had ever seen her. Esther lived

with Cousin Mordecai and Aunt Merta since her

parents died when she was a young girl. Aunt Merta

was usually downcast because she “didn’t want to

be happy in a land where she did not belong.”

Esther’s family was among the exiles of Israel. They

were exiled by the ancient King of Babylon, King

Nebuchadnezzar. Many people, like Aunt Merta,

went about downcast, to show God that their spirits

mourned their exile and the destruction of their

homeland; in the hope that God will show mercy

and return them to their beloved country, Israel. But

tonight, Aunt Merta was wringing her hands.

She turned to Esther and said, “God is not

smiling down on us Esther. Now a pagan king

wants to marry our girls! This is not a good sign! I

would never think a day like this day would come!”

“Aunt, please! It’s only a formality,” Esther

tried to reassure her. “There’s no way that King

Xerxes would choose a common girl over Princess

Leah.”

“No. This day came for a reason,” remarked

Cousin Mordecai. He had been silent and deep in

thought all evening; his face carried a faraway,

distant look. Reaching over to take hold of her

hands between his, he continued: “Now our people

have a chance, through you Esther. Who knows the

mind of God, you may come to royal position for

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29

such a time as this, to free our people! Make us

proud Esther!”

Aunt Merta huffed at the remark but remained

silent.

“His many wonders we will never understand.”

He released her and picked up his bread once again.

They ate dinner in a pensive atmosphere, and

later that night Esther thought about Cousin

Mordecai’s words and wondered if what he said

was true and even possible; after all, she was only a

speck in the grand scheme of things.

30

CHAPTER 4

The young maidens between 18 and 20 gathered

in the town’s square the next morning with their

families. While they waited for the caravans to

arrive, a lively chatter ensued. Many of the girls

were excited at the chance of becoming Queen.

Mothers fussed over their daughters, straightening

their dresses, tucking in stray wisps of hair under

freshly pressed head shawls. Then on the outskirts

of the group were women crying who had missed

their chance of entering the contest because they

were too old. Hannah-belle’s voice could be heard

over the din as she chatted away with others

standing by her. Esther and Rebecca rolled their

eyes - Hannah-belle was at it again!

The caravans arrived and the girls were ushered

into them. Esther and Rebecca said their goodbyes

to their families. It was only after the caravans

pulled away from the town’s square that Esther

allowed her heart to flutter in excitement, because

when she thought of it, this was really a chance of a

lifetime!

There was hushed activity in the courtyard of the

palace when several caravans pulled in through the

tall wrought-iron gates, with the girls from Susa

and its surrounding areas. The eunuchs stood in

line at the entrance to the palace, and there were

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31

guards situated almost anywhere there was an

opening. What? Were they anticipating the girls to

change their minds and run away? To be honest

Esther felt like doing just that and she knew that

Rebecca was probably thinking the same too.

As the girls alighted from the caravan, Esther

looked around the courtyard. Breathtaking!

Someone had taken the time to make the

entrance way and the gardens a marvelous wonder

to behold. Flowers of several variety and in full

bloom, lined the palace windows in troughs. Those

on the ground were in colorful circular clusters.

The grass on either side of the walkway was closely

cropped and everything seemed to be in its place.

The only thing that seemed out of place were the

girls in their poor rags, some dressed in their finest

but still not adequate for a palace! Esther looked

around her, everyone seemed so happy. The girls

were giggling, some wide-eyed surveying the scene,

others quietly talking; but nevertheless, there was

an obvious glow of happiness and excitement on

their faces. Even Rebecca looked as if she could not

contain herself, and was about to burst at the seams.

Enshrouded in an air of importance, a large man

in silk robes headed their way. Quietly, everyone

immediately complied when he spoke and ordered

the girls to make a straight line behind one another.

Esther fell in line behind Rebecca. Big iron doors

yawned open before them to reveal long winding

corridors that were lined with swirling purple and

red fabrics and gold ornaments. In open archways

along the winding corridors were statues of gold

and marble overlooking wide open lush gardens.

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Esther had never seen such opulence in her life and

she wondered if maybe she was dreaming. She

reached under the sleeve of her dress and pinched

herself. She winced and inhaled sharply.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked, half-turning to

look at her.

“I’m fine,” Esther whispered.

They entered a room with carpets and rugs and

tapestries on the wall. Esther stared at the

tapestries and wondered if one day she’d be able to

make tapestries like these with silken threads. The

large man turned to face them.

“I am Hegai, King Xerxes’ head eunuch in

charge of the king’s harem. You are about to enter

into the King’s presence,” he said. “There should

be no talking, whispering, or laughing in His

Majesty’s presence. You must bow and pay

obeisance to him. You may not stand in his presence

unless he invites you to do so. When he does, you

state your name and your village. Do you

understand?”

Everyone answered yes, now less excited than

they were before. There were stories of people

losing their lives because they entered into the

king’s presence without being invited to do so.

“Keep your eyes downcast and your heads

slightly bowed when you speak to your king,” Hegai

continued. “Your demeanor must be subservient

and respectful, you are still poor maidens, don’t

forget that!”

Hegai moved on and the procession with him. He

stopped at another set of big iron doors, three times

the height of him, at the end of the long corridor.

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33

The guards standing on each side both gave the

doors a hefty tug. The big doors creaked open and

the girls craned their necks to see inside.

“Keep your heads down!” Hegai shouted.

Everyone did as they were told.

The eunuch on the inside of the heavy doors

announced:

“Eunuch Hegai, keeper of the harem and the

maidens Your Majesty, requesting entrance.”

Esther’s heart fluttered for a moment. Was she

really going to meet the King? Her palms were like

clay and her mouth went so dry it felt as if someone

had sewn her lips shut. One by one they filed into

the inner court, afraid to look up. Esther saw

several large rugs but barely anything else.

They stopped in a straight line in front of King

Xerxes, and on command from Hegai, they bowed

down and paid obeisance to the King, all one

hundred and forty-nine of them. They remained like

that awaiting further orders. The King was on some

sort of platform, she figured. Then she heard when

Hegai announced that the King will descend to meet

them. Esther was confused. Weren’t they supposed

to present themselves on the platform before him

instead? Why would he come down from his seat to

meet them?

One by one the maidens were commanded to

stand and state their names and villages as the King

passed before each of them. Esther’s heart was

beating so hard and fast, she thought for sure that

she was going to pass out dead on the floor before

the King got to her. Faintly she heard Rebecca’s

voice and wondered if she had to listen out for the

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34

command to get to her feet or should she just stand

as soon as Rebecca was done speaking? She

strained to hear. What was wrong with her ears all

of a sudden? Why did everything sound far away?

When would it be her turn already? Why was it so

hot in this palace? With all the opulence and vast

wealth, couldn’t the king build a window for his

throne room? Whoever hears of a room this big

without windows?

Did someone kick her? There it was again! She

turned and saw that it was Rebecca nudging her

with her foot in a very annoying manner.

“What?” she practically shouted, then realized

that she was kneeling before King Xerxes and it was

her time to deliver her name and village.

Quickly she got to her feet, and immediately felt

dizzy. She tried to steady herself against Rebecca as

she said:

“Esther. Esther of Suza.”

She had forgotten to keep her eyes downcast and

her head bowed. She stared at the King. He stared

back. She couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome

face and kind brown eyes that studied her. Why

does his face seem so familiar? He smiled and the

upturn of his lips reminded her of the man she met

in the marketplace under the tattered hood. She

blinked several times, the King’s face was a bit

blurry and he was saying something to her.

“We meet again,” he said, smiling at her.

Esther struggled to focus. She blushed. It was

him! Embarrassment washed over her like the warm

ocean waves, causing a cold sweat to break out

under her armpits and tiny beads to perforate her

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35

forehead. Before Esther passed out, the last thing

she remembered were the not-so-nice things she

had said about the King to the man wearing the

tattered hood in the marketplace.

It was indeed embarrassing! Esther could hear

them talking around her, but she didn’t want to

open her eyes. Why did she have to faint? Now

everyone will think she fainted because she was

nervous about meeting the King. But that was far

from it. The room was just really hot, and in truth

she had felt dizzy when they had entered the room

but she had ignored it, thinking it was nerves. She

must look pathetic to the King lying there on her

back but she just couldn’t open her eyes and face

him. Not yet.

He had said, just before she passed out: “We

meet again.” Obviously, he recognized her from the

marketplace! But why was he there dressed in rags?

Was he there to spy on the villagers about what they

had to say about the contest? Oh goodness! He had

caught her saying not-so-nice things about him!

There was no way she was going to open her eyes

now!

Esther heard the King ordered that she be taken

to the harem and she felt her body lift in a pair of

strong arms. Esther allowed her body to go limp.

She might as well look the part! There was silence

as her escort carried her out the door and down the

long open corridors. Once in the corridors, Esther

could feel a cool breeze on her face as a gentle

wind blew in from the gardens outside.

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The strong arms placed Esther gently on soft

bedding, and she lay still for a while before opening

her eyes. Kind brown eyes met hers and she smiled.

It was one of the eunuchs from the courtyard.

“I am Mennah,” he said, pointing to himself. “I

will send a maid for you.” And with that he was

gone.

Esther looked around her. The large room was

like a pavilion with many arched exits that led to

other rooms. Toward the center of the pavilion was

a large oval shaped pool and several luxury

bedding made of thick bulky wool, covered with

exotic silk fabrics were around the pool. Mennah

had placed her on one of the beddings. It was

cushiony and soft, and so was the small feathered

pillow under her head. Esther had never seen a

feathered pillow before, much less to rest her head

upon it. The pillows the villagers used were stuffed

with hay, or old clothing.

The pavilion was decorated with blue and white

thin wispy fabrics elegantly draped around the four

large marble pillars toward its center. Then there

were red silk fabrics with gold and silver

embroidery scalloped between each pillar, and

attached to the blue and white fabrics with silver

rings. The floor around the pool was a mosaic

pavement and further out where the beddings were,

the floor was made of small marble tiles. Esther

wondered if this is what paradise looked like.

A maid came bearing a large bowl of cool water

and a washcloth which she placed on Esther’s head.

Another maid came laden with fruits and meats and

bread. They helped Esther sit up to eat. Although

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37

she was feeling weak, Esther’s stomach growled

ferociously; she was indeed grateful for the food!

“Eat up,” they encouraged her. The older maid

called Zara fussed and clucked over her, saying

Esther was too skinny and needed to be fattened up.

She sent the younger maid, Seneca, off and soon she

came back with a small pitcher of milk. Esther tried

to tell them that she was fine now but they wouldn’t

hear it and continued to ply her with food. Soon she

gave up and allowed herself to be fed.

The other girls came into the harem one by one

with Hegai at the lead. His voice seemed to fill

every nook of the room.

“It’s good to see you looking better Esther of

Suza,” he said, and she blushed.

“Well,” he clapped his hands and continued.

“This will be your home for the next twelve months.

The contest has three sections. After the first three

months the first section of the contest will take place,

in which each of you will be required to make a

handmade gift for the King. After another three

months, the second section of the contest will be

held, in which each of you must entertain the King.

After the last six months, the final section of the

contest will be held, in which your beauty will be

assessed by His Majesty the King. In those last six

months your body will be prepared with perfumes

and oils and fragrances from faraway lands, so you

can be presented as beauties before your King.”

Everyone started to chatter all at once. He held

his hand up and the chatter ceased.

“The maids are here to serve you now,” he

added.

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38

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands and

several maids came into the room with trays of food

and fruits, pitchers of wine and milk, and the

eunuchs placed several jars of water around the

room. All the girls took seats on mats and beddings.

Rebecca ran over to her and flopped down beside

her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” she answered. Esther leaned over to

whisper in her ear. “Did you know that the man we

saw with the tattered hood in the marketplace was

actually King Xerxes?”

Rebecca pulled back and snickered. She touched

Esther’s forehead and said:

“Now you have a fever too?”

“It’s true,” Esther insisted but Rebecca had

begun to eat the food and was ignoring her.

“Rebecca! It’s true! Didn’t you hear him say to

me ‘We meet again’” Esther remarked.

Rebecca gasped and almost choked on her

mouthful of grapes. Esther knocked her back

several times before Rebecca answered her.

“No way!”

“See! I told you!”

“And he recognized you too! You think you’ll be

punished? Oh Esther, this isn’t good,” Rebecca

said worriedly.

“I know.”

“Is that why you fainted?”

“Of course not! It was hot!”

“Or was it because you were embarrassed,”

Rebecca teased.

“No. It was hot in the room,” Esther insisted.

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“So what are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do, but just wait and

see,” she muttered, hoping that the King will not

make a big fuss about it.

Anything could happen. This is the same king

who banished his queen forever from his courts

because she refused to come into his presence when

he called for her. Esther shuddered at the thought.

Will this be the end for her? But what about Uncle

Mordecai’s words? He said that God’s thoughts

and plans are way above the understanding of man.

If God’s will is truly to be fulfilled through her, then

why should she fear? Shouldn’t she exercise some

faith, at least?

Willow was satisfied with the direction her story

was heading. Not a bad start for a story with no

plot! She loved the story of Esther because it

resonate tenacity and bravery, but most important,

it’s a magical love story.

It’s a story in which a regular girl gets her own

Prince Charming. You can’t get more fairy tale

romance than that! Granted yes, King Xerxes didn’t

look at all charming when in a drunken stupor he

banished his queen, and for a very petty reason.

Nevertheless, it’s an opportunity to write a love

story; her version of Esther’s tale. Her own love

story! At least how she envisioned being swept off

her feet by her very own Prince Charming! Hey,

can’t a girl dream once in a while?

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40

She certainly could fantasize a little and hope

that God would be paying close attention to her

hints! She would be dropping hints to the kind of

Prince Charming she wanted! It wouldn't hurt too if

he looked anything like Chad! Willow giggled. It’s

funny; she was trying to lay out a roadmap for God

to get a hint of what she thought her love life should

be like! It reminded her of Christmas time or her

birthday when she would leave clues lying around

the house with hints of what gift she’d like! It was

short of leaving big flashing neon arrows pointing

to a big picture of the gift and sign that say “Buy

this!”

Although she may joke around about leaving

road signs for God to interpret her desires, in all

seriousness she knew deep down that anything to be

accomplished in her life was not by her doing but

by God’s. Didn’t God say that it was “not by might

nor by power, but by [His] Spirit” can all things be

accomplished? Not in her strength but by His will

and power.

God is more than capable in fixing her problems,

and in providing the means to which stuff can be

repaired in her house. He can even help her to

overcome her lack of faith. God knows she certainly

doesn’t have much to begin with! Willow’s heart

swell at the thought. If He wanted, He could even

help her win the writing competition, giving her the

desire of her heart!

Should she for once go out on a limb and

exercise some faith? What did she have to lose to

just believe that God majors in the impossible?

Putting the journal aside, Willow uncurled herself

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41

from the couch. She knelt to pray, asking God to

accomplish His will in her life and through His

might and power. Then Willow promised that the

‘mustard seed of faith’ she had, she would exercise

it; and when she got up Willow felt as if a load had

been lifted off her shoulders.

Needing some good hearty breakfast, for all the

brain power she had used, Willow headed for the

kitchen. This time smiling as she viewed the repairs

in her kitchen no longer as her problem but instead

as potential projects for God to work on!

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CHAPTER 5

Willow opened her eyes slowly against the early

morning light streaming through her window.

She groaned when the light painfully hit her eyes.

Tired from staying out late with Jenna last night,

she curled up in a ball and willed the morning to go

back where it came from. She just needed five more

minutes of blissful sleep.

Her interview! Willow bolted out of the bed. She

had a 9:00am job interview with Chad Wickham

this morning! How could she have forgotten?

Yesterday, God had honored her prayer and her

ounce of faith. Wickham Publishing’s secretary had

called to say that CEO Chad Wickham had seen her

work in several magazines and wanted to interview

her for a possible job offer! The phone almost fell

from her hand in disbelief. God had listened! And to

think she hadn’t even asked for a job! When she

told Jenna, she shrieked so hard, the kitchen staff at

the restaurant came running.

Willow buzzed around from room to room,

squirming into and buttoning the outfit Jenna

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43

bought for her the night before. They had stayed out

late, shopping for the perfect ‘interview outfit’. She

switched on the living room TV as she passed it en

route to the kitchen where she left her shoes the

night before. The news was on and Willow half-

listened to it as she slid her shoes on and hopped

over to the refrigerator to get milk for her cereal.

From where she was standing she could hear the

commercials and then the news came back on.

The newscaster announced breaking news, and

Willow rolled her eyes in disgust; all news these

days seemed to be ‘Breaking News!” By the time

she poured her milk and cereal in the bowl and

sliced the ripe banana on top, and rushed to sit

before the TV, she only caught the last part of the

news where the two newscasters were commenting:

“CEO Chad Wickham, announces his broken

engagement to Wickham Publishing’s Director,

Blake Dodswell, but did not comment further on the

reason for it. The son Chad Wickham had taken

over from his father. Jack Wickham, the affluent

chairman of Wickham Enterprises, stepped down

temporarily because of sudden illness. Well there

you have it folks, your guess is as good as ours.

They seemed like the ideal couple, and everyone

was expecting wedding bells soon, but it seems like

it was not meant to be. What a pity!”

They switched to other news, and Willow turned

off the TV in disgust. She had rushed over to watch

that bit of news because she wanted to see what

Chad Wickham looked like; after all she’s supposed

to meet him in an hour or so.

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In the silence of her living room, Willow

thanked God for listening to her prayer and she

asked that His will be done in the interview. Then

Willow wolfed down the rest of her breakfast,

grabbed her handbag, checked her reflection in the

hallway mirror, and headed out the door.

“Mr. Wickham, this is Willow Pichard. She is

one of the writers in the Novelist of the Year

competition,” the secretary was saying to the

handsome guy seated in the large leather chair.

But Willow wasn’t listening. She was staring at

the man around the wide expansive desk. Chad!

The same Chad whom Willow had bumped into

at the bookstore on 15th and 5th, earlier last month.

The same Chad whose ex-fiancé was furious at their

chance meeting at the bookstore. The same Chad

who read her single entry Bucket List in her

journal! The same Chad at Prospect Park!

And he is the Chad Wickham, CEO and heir of

Wickham Publishing and Wickham Enterprises.

The Chad, who announced earlier that he was no

longer engaged to his fiancé Blake Dodswell. He is

to be her boss!

Then she realized that he was already her boss,

since the restaurant The Hollow and the adjoining

hotel, The Wickhollow, were part of the

conglomerate of Wickham Enterprises. The reason

he looked so familiar is because he lunched at The

Hollow a few times before!

He got to his feet and as he extended his hand for

a handshake, Willow’s knees went weak and her

cheeks burned.

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45

She shook his hand with trepidation. Did he

recognize her?

“Willow Pichard,” she heard herself saying.

“Pleasure to meet you again Ms. Pichard.” He

smiled at her. “Great to see you.”

She blushed and her heart skipped a beat

momentarily. So, he remembered her from the

bookstore and the park! This world was way too

small! Willow thought.

“Please have a seat.” He gestured to the inviting

ochre colored winged chair opposite his desk.

She obeyed, glad for the cushiony plumpness of

the chair and hoped it would calm her nerves a bit.

As he sat back down and the secretary exited,

Willow glanced around the office. She felt quite

shabby and out-of-place among the rich artifacts

and expensive fabric and furniture.

“How was the fish? Good I hope.” He eased

back in his chair.

“Good,” she said.

Remembering his arms around her as he helped

her reel in her fish made her shudder the way she

had that day at the park. She looked around the

room; anything other than looking at Chad, would

settle her nerves. She didn’t think he’d remember

their encounter at the bookstore and the park.

Willow was itching to ask him if he still had her

photo in his phone, but she shoved the thought aside.

How absurd would that be! Why would he keep it?

He was probably just being polite to her and Jenna

that day in the park.

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46

But Willow’s twisted fate would not let her go so

easy, and she grimaced when Chad fished his phone

from his pocket and said: “I still have the photos!”

Willow’s eyes grew large. He leaned forward as

he swiped his phone a couple of times. “Take a

look,” he said.

He placed the phone almost at the edge of his

desk and there she was, her head thrown back with

fish in hand as he dipped her! They almost looked

like they were about to kiss. Willow wanted to sink

into the chair. There were about eight photos in the

slide show, even one of her and Julia and Chad,

looking like a family.

“They are nice,” she said weakly, and wondered

if his ex-girlfriend had seen the photos! Good grief!

He reached for his phone and swiped again.

Willow, still using the chair as a distraction,

fussed with seating herself and situating her

handbag comfortably on the chair. She needed more

than a moment to regain her composure; not that

she had much to begin with.

“Well,” he smiled. “Let’s get to why you’re here

today.”

He continued, his voice suddenly taking on a

business-like tone. “I called you here today because

recently I’ve come across your articles in several

magazines, and find them to be exceptional. I like

your writing style and voice.”

Willow straightened. Such a compliment coming

from the CEO of one of the most recognized

publishing houses in New York City struck her with

awe. She accepted the compliment graciously.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to stop grinning.

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47

“With that said, I would like to offer you a part-

time job here at Wickham Publishing. Well, it’s

more like an intern position, with the possibility of

full time hire, in our Editing Department. We’re just

establishing an extension of our printing services

called The Book Magazine, and we haven’t fully set

up the department as yet. The position is for about 2

to 3 hours per day...” He continued to talk more

about the company and its mission regarding the

magazine, and the importance of meeting editing

and printing deadlines. She noted that he wasn't

actually interviewing her, but more was telling her

that she was hired. He had already scouted her. She

guessed that's what CEO's are made of - they

already know what they want. Chad was obviously

the kind of man who knew what he wanted, and

pursued it. For some strange reason, Chad's

presence suddenly filled the room and her

nervousness returned.

“I see you are currently working at The Hollow,"

he was saying; his voice cutting through her

thoughts.

“Yes,” she sheepishly replied.

“Which shift are you on?”

“I’m on the evening shift.”

“Good! Then can you stay on today just for

couple hours of orientation?” She nodded yes. He

continued. “Good. Grace will work more with you

on that.” He then held his hand up to signal that he

would be a moment, and picked up the phone on his

desk. He pressed a button and Willow heard a faint

“Hello?” from where she was sitting.

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48

“Grace,” he said. “I have Willow in my office.

Yes. Yes. Ok.” He hung up the phone.

It felt strange walking beside him as she

followed him down the corridors. The feeling was

euphoric; it was hard to believe that she will be

working at one of New York’s most established

publishing company. If this was a dream, she didn’t

want to wake up!

Chad Wickham led Willow to Grace

Ludwigham’s office. Grace was the Senior Editor at

Wickham Publishing. He introduced her to Grace,

and then promptly returned to his office. Grace

Ludwigham sternly observed Willow at first before

offering a small smile and a command to sit. Then

she filled Willow in on the details of what would be

her job duties.

“Nothing much to the job really. Your

responsibilities are as follows: (1) Review

Children’s and YA fiction books for new releases.

(2) Review 4 to 6 books per month and submit on

time for editing and printing…” she paused and

tapped the pen against her palm. She continued after

a moment, “and (3) assist in editing, and do some

light internal messenger service for me.”

Then Grace showed Willow her work area; the

L-shaped wooden desk filled the cubicle. Willow

felt privileged. She never had a desk before, but

then all her jobs have always been waitressing.

Nevertheless, Willow felt that the heavens opened

up and smiled on her, all because she had chosen to

exercise some faith! Hey, this faith thing wasn’t so

bad! She should do it more often. It was a good

feeling.

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49

All alone in her cubicle, she texted Jenna: Got the job!

Way to go Willow! Jenna replied.

Willow: Guess what...the CEO is the same guy

that was at the park and he’s the same guy I bumped into at the bookstore, the one with the girlfriend who had an attitude! Talk about coincidence!

Jenna: No way! Not coincidence, fate! Willow: Well fate surely has a twisted sense of

humor! He still has the photos! Jenna: No way! For real? Willow: Yup. Talk to you later. Jenna: K

Willow swiped her hand across the screen to

close out Jenna’s text. She turned her attention to

the paperwork left on her desk. She did some light

editing while Grace had a meeting with a client.

Then afterwards, Grace called her into her office

and gave her four books to review. Two of them

were YA fiction novels; and the other two were

children’s books for ages 6 to 8. Willow got started

on one of the fiction novels, and retrieved a

notebook to make notes. She felt weird sitting and

reading a book on the job, but that was her job!

Later, Grace’s secretary took her on a tour of the

different departments that would be a part of her

internal messenger route. Willow spent a happy

morning learning where to find each department

and she tried to memorize the names of those she

met. Thankfully, she had her notebook in which she

drew herself a little layout of each floor and wrote

the names of the people she met.

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50

That good feeling of God smiling in her favor

stayed with her for the entire morning she spent at

the office. Willow left work at one, elated, and in

need of someone’s company to whom she could

brag about her new job. She thought of Jenna, but

Jenna who was on the evening shift, was just about

to start working. She had the rest of the day off

because Chad had called ahead and spoke to

Charles, her boss at The Hollow. She thought about

going to the bookstore, when getting out of the

elevator she saw a deli shop across the hallway.

She didn’t remember seeing the deli on her way

to the interview. Willow wondered if the deli was a

part of Wickham Publishing; then she saw the sign

“Cafe Hollow” which confirmed that it was.

She walked in and immediately recognized some

of the employees she had met earlier. The self-serve

buffet counter was in the middle, and Willow

automatically gravitated toward it. The array of

food was unbelievable, and very appealing. The

atmosphere felt more like a restaurant than a cafe.

She got in the line behind an old man and waited

patiently until it was her turn to spoon the smooth

lentil soup into her bowl. She got garlic bread from

the other side, and then went to pay at the counter.

Willow chose an empty table to the far corner of the

large dining room, and dug into her lunch. The soup

was very good, and the garlic bread was

scrumptious. She all but inhaled the food as she

devoured it. That’s how Chad Wickham found her -

munching heartily on a mouthful of bread and soup.

“Hi again,” he said, sitting across from her.

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51

Willow’s eyes opened wide, and she almost

choked on her lunch as she hurriedly tried to

swallow.

“Hi, Mr.Wickham.”

“Call me Chad. So how was it?” he asked,

sipping his medium sized tea.

“It was great.” Aware that he was just staring at

her waiting for more than it-was-great, she said: “I

learned where the departments were today, and I

learned the names of several people.”

Feeling stupid, she looked down into her soup. Is

that all she did in the half day she spent at the

office?

“I did some editing too, and I’ve already

received four books to review for the magazine,”

she added.

“Very good. What time does Grace need you to

come in each day?”

Were CEO’s interested in these minor details too

or was he just making polite conversation? “From 2

to 5,” she answered.

“Good,” he said again. He took another sip of his

tea. The café buzzed around them.

“So how’s the writing for the contest coming

along?” he asked. “Not that I can discuss it with you,

contest rules, but how is it going?”

She looked up again. “It’s going great. I write

each free time I get.”

“Great,” he paused. His eyes never left hers and

Willow wondered if his gaze was always so intense.

“So how did you get into writing?”

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52

“I fell in love with writing when my mother

gave me her old typewriter when I was 10 years

old.”

“Well then, she must be really proud of you

writing for this competition,” he said, smiling at her.

Willow took in a deep breath. How did she

broach this touchy subject without melting into

tears before him?

“It has been two years since they passed

away…” she paused. His exuberant expression

quickly faded. Willow continued, “The boating

incident happened on their 50th anniversary when I

sponsored them for a cruise. Two days before they

were scheduled to return, the ship docked in

Bermuda, and I was told that my parents took a

yacht, with some other passengers, to go ashore.”

She hesitated. This was always the hardest part,

and Willow wondered if time really heals all pain.

They said so, but she really doubted it.

“Later when they were returning to the ship, the

yacht collided with a fishing boat. No one

survived.”

“So sorry to hear that Willow,” Chad said. He

had moved closer to her while she was talking. He

placed his hand on hers. The tender motion moved

her heart and it brought tears to her eyes. Willow

wiped them away.

“How did you manage? Do you have siblings?

It's always the hardest to deal with the death of a

loved one on your own.”

“No, I’m an only child,” she said; her voice

suddenly hoarse. Clearing her throat, she continued.

“In the days that followed, I was in a daze but thank

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53

God for Uncle Carlo, my Mom’s brother. He took

charge of everything and arranged the funeral.”

Uncle Carlo had also helped her with the

finances too. Naturally, being the only child, she

had inherited her family home and everything else

her parents possessed. What a relief it was to find

that the mortgage was recently paid off!

Unfortunately, her parents’ accounts were virtually

empty, and so the rest of her savings (which was not

much) went to their funeral expenses. Money had

been tight but with the help of Uncle Carlo, Willow

was able to decently bury her parents.

“I know it sounds pretty clichéd, but really, God

doesn’t give us more than we can bear,” said Chad.

His fingers were stroking hers in a rather

comforting motion; but what was far more

surprising was that he openly spoke of God. She

liked that.

“I know. Jenna said that too and I know it’s true

but then of course, at the time it was hard to

believe,” Willow said, her eyes misting over.

For months after her parents’ death, Willow was

numb. She ate, slept, and worked at The Hollow in

a very distracted, mundane routine that had become

what was left of her life. She had a hollowed void in

her heart and nothing could fill it. Back then the

promises of God filling the void and ‘giving beauty

for ashes’, didn’t seem to ring true to her anymore.

She found beauty in nothing; everything was bland.

Jenna and her uncle Carlo were the only two

constant in her life, and they tried hard to get

Willow back on her feet again. Then finally one

morning, several months later, Willow decided that

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54

her parents would have wanted her to move on with

her life. It was hard.

“Well,” Willow straightened. “Picking up the

pieces and deciding to live life well, in a way my

parents would approve was difficult but I was able

to get things moving again with prayer and the help

of Jenna.”

“And here you are,” he said.

“Yes and here I am.”

“Well, writing is a good way to get moving

again,” he said, changing the subject.

She nodded, appreciating that he pried no further.

“Your short stories for the magazines are

sensational. In such a short space you’ve managed

to add depth and have well-rounded characters,” he

complimented her.

“Thank you,” Willow said, her expression

softening. “I love writing. I write about everything.

I like to watch people in a park or on the subway,

and then write about them. I imagine what their

lives would be like. I even keep a journal...”

At the mention of her journal, she stopped and

took a hearty bite of her garlic bread to shut herself

up.

Chad smiled knowingly. “Have you met that

great guy yet from the Bucket List?”

Willow flashed him a look of surprise and froze

in the middle of chewing. It seemed the deli got

quiet all of a sudden, and only the sound of her

bleating heart could be heard pounding in her ears.

So he did see it!

How unsettling. His question left Willow

wondering what to say next. Unable to think of

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55

anything, she smiled at him and immediately

blushed and looked away, hoping he didn’t think

she was flirting with him!

She tried hard not to stare at him. She didn’t

want to be lumped with all the other women who

fall over themselves for a guy like Chad! But

Willow couldn’t help noting that he was indeed

handsome, now that they were sitting so close

across from each other. His strong square jaw was

clean shaven and his lips held a slight smirk -

almost a smile, as his dark brown eyes rested on her.

She blushed and took a mouthful of hot soup, and

then gulped when the liquid burned her throat. Her

eyes watered and she looked down to hide the tears

which she quickly blinked away. What was wrong

with her? She needed to get a hold of herself. She

could bet her last dollar that guys like Chad

Wickham didn’t give women like her a second

glance. She didn’t have the Gucci bag and diamond

bracelets hanging off her wrists, and surely she

didn’t have a loaded trust fund like the one Blake

Dodswell was rumored to have!

He was once again observing her, his eyes

smiling, enjoying her moment of fluster, when they

were suddenly interrupted by a sharp “Chad!” to

which his eyes narrowed and he turned in his seat.

“Yes.”

It was the same woman from the bookstore

where she had first met Chad! Her eyes blazing, she

surveyed Willow with disdain, then Chad, then

Willow again.

“I’m here for the meeting,” the woman said,

curtly.

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56

Then in the next instance, her body relaxed and

she gently touched the top of Chad’s shoulders with

long slim pink nail polished fingers.

Chad got to his feet politely.

“Willow Pichard I want you to meet Blake

Dodswell. She’s our Publishing Director at

Wickham Publishing,” he introduced.

Willow stood up and extended her hand. Blake

grasped it lightly.

“Pleased to meet you,” Willow said.

“Willow will be working with Grace on the

magazine,” Chad informed Blake.

“Oh yes. Welcome aboard,” Blake said and

withdrew her hand, smiling faintly. She turned her

attention to Chad.

“I want to speak with you for a bit before the

meeting,” she said.

Chad nodded. He extended his hand to Willow

for a handshake. The familiar gesture warmed

Willow unexpectedly.

“It was great meeting with you Willow. If you

have any questions, feel free to come by my office.”

“Ok, Mr. Wickham… Chad,” she amended, and

shook his hand.

Blake linked her arm in his. She looked at

Willow and frowned, then turned to leave with

Chad.

Confused, Willow sat down again, staring after

them as they made their way through several groups

of people. Didn’t Chad announce earlier that they

were no longer engaged? Then why was Blake

holding his arm so possessively?

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57

And why was she scowling at me? Willow

thought. She hoped Blake didn’t think that she was

flirting with Chad! After all, she did happen to catch

them off guard when Willow was blushing

profusely because Chad was teasing her about her

Bucket List!

Willow groaned. She didn’t get off to a right

start with Blake Dodswell and she’d probably have

to work with the woman! Willow made a mental

note to tread lightly around her.

But later when she met Jenna on her break and

Willow told her about Chad and Blake, Jenna had a

different thing to say.

“What are the chances you meet him again like

this? It’s fate!” Jenna declared.

“Don’t be silly,” Willow said. Jenna was a firm

believer of ‘nothing happens by chance’. She

always believed that God had a hand in everything;

and everything happened for a reason.

“Hey! But why was Blake scowling at you?”

Jenna asked.

“She caught me blushing. Mr. Wickham was

asking me if I’d found the guy yet from the Bucket

List!” Willow blushed as she remembered the

twinkle in his eyes.

Jenna squealed with delight. “No wonder she

was scowling! Don’t you see? He announced their

break-up this morning and by lunch he was on a

date with the woman he had met before in the

bookstore!”

“It wasn’t a date! I was eating lunch and he

stopped by with his tea,” Willow declared hotly.

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58

“Yes,” answered Jenna. “I know that, you know

that, and Chad knows that. But what about Blake?

She doesn’t know that! As far as she’s concerned,

by lunch time you were flirting with her ex-fiancé

who just gave you a job this morning after meeting

you in the bookstore last month!”

Willow stared at Jenna in surprise. She never

thought of it that way! She hoped Blake didn’t think

that she was the reason for them breaking up!

“Oh dear,” was all she could say.

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely God at work!” Jenna

said happily.

Willow was not too sure about that. Was God

into match-making too?

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59

FIND OUT HOW THE STORY ENDS AT:

AMAZON.COM

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

The Women of Jesus

The Secrets of Aunt Norah’s House

Why Should I Believe You?

Love Unhinged

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes is the Creative Editor of

The Books Magazine, a quarterly book review

publication of DB-R Designs.

She lives with her husband Karl, and their two sons in

New York.

Writing for Love

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