Like a bleeding scab, Sara could pick until she pulled them apart. As with most stories, she had learned more about her self than she cared to. Sara knew too well what masks hid her scarred hide. An ache stirred that hadn’t since Jack came to stay. She thought about her grandfather and the tin… Continue Reading
The Tin Box
The relic-like mementos in the box drew Sara in. She carefully lifted the dress, thinned with age, and pressed it to her body. It seemed to be made for her. Smoothing it over her clothes and turning her head as if admiring herself in a mirror, Sara loved the feel of it, the look of… Continue Reading
The Bone Spinner
Henry was an angry man, enraged to madness, brokenhearted, sick and tired. There was no treatment for what ailed him. He was well versed in philosophy, science, politics, doctrine, and literature of all sorts, enough to know better than to be superstitious. He also knew root medicines and how to divine knowledge from reading objects… Continue Reading
Running Away
Soren had never felt more insane. She’d gone home thinking a miscarriage was inevitable. That didn’t happen, and now the entire Harpersville gossip-line of several hundred do-gooders couldn’t stop talking. What’s more, the relationship demon was already forcing its way into Soren’s mind. Life had taught her not to count on anyone, for the one… Continue Reading
A Medicine Box
Sara finally decided to look at the photographs. She was immediately sorry. They made no sense. The first depicted a young dark-haired woman wearing an off-white antique-lace mantilla. On the back was written, “Sometimes the heart knows what the mind cannot comprehend.” It was her mother’s handwriting. Sara searched the hooded eyes in the photo.… Continue Reading
The Tin Box
Everything had taken a turn, separating all that had been from what was yet to come. In one corner of the closet in Sara’s old bedroom, she found her mother’s memorabilia instead of hers. On the top shelf in what appeared to be a century of dust and cobwebs, an old tobacco tin nestled like… Continue Reading
Who Can Know the Heart?
Sara thought the day her mother died had been the single worst of her life. But she was dead wrong. At the memorial service, she discovered she didn’t know her well, maybe not at all. Perhaps no one did. She’d always assumed her flaming red hair with temperament to match came from her Irish ancestors.… Continue Reading
Who Can Know the Heart?
Sara would always remember the words, jagged and piercing: An accident. On her way home from work. Two blocks from home. Sara waited cautiously, hoping it was a wrong number “Expired,” said the officer who announced himself as Ron. Sara pictured a Marine: broad shouldered, crew cut, and matter of fact. “What? Her driver’s license… Continue Reading
Undercurrents 
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