Today we welcome special guest Leeann Betts who is here to share a little tidbit on Seagulls in Colorado, and some of the research behind her story, In Search of Christmas Past.
Leeann
Betts writes contemporary suspense, while her real-life persona, Donna Schlachter,
pens historical suspense. She has released six titles in her cozy mystery
series, By the Numbers, with Petty Cash
releasing in December. In addition, Leeann has written a devotional for
accountants, bookkeepers, and financial folk, Counting the Days, and with her real-life persona, Donna
Schlachter, has published a book on writing, Nuggets of Writing Gold, a compilation of essays, articles, and
exercises on the craft. She publishes a free quarterly newsletter that includes
a book review and articles on writing and books of interest to readers and
writers. You can subscribe at www.LeeannBetts.com
or follow Leeann at www.AllBettsAreOff.wordpress.com
All books are available on Amazon.com in digital and print, and at
Smashwords.com in digital format.
Website:
www.LeeannBetts.com Receive a free
ebook just for signing up for our quarterly newsletter.
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Books:
Amazon http://amzn.to/2dHfgCE and Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2z5ecP8
*****
This
romantic suspense set in the mountains of Colorado came to me a couple of years
ago when I was struggling to develop an idea for a novella. At that point, I’d
never written a novella and only read a few of them, so I didn’t really know
what I was doing. But I wanted to write about a place I love—the mountains—and
a horse stable I’d visited in Estes Park, Colorado.
The
characters came to me one day when I was in a WalMart parking lot. I saw gulls
soaring overhead and landing to eat a discarded hamburger when the idea came to
me that those gulls—which I called seagulls because I’m an East Coast girl—must
have been blown really far off course to end up in Colorado. I mean, any coast
is more than 1500 miles away from here.
So
I went home and did some research, and I found out they aren’t seagulls—they’re
just plain gulls. And despite my wanting to connect them with the ocean,
they’ve never been there and likely never will.
Intrigued,
I thought about gulls and mountains and horse stables, and came up with this
story.
I
love these characters because they reflect me at different times in my life. As
a teen, I was certain I knew exactly what I would be when I grew up—a
veterinarian. Well, that didn’t happen, so I left college and worked for almost
20 years before deciding I could get ahead faster with a degree, so I did
business and accounting since I was already working in that field. Then I
decided to leave that career and go into veterinarian assistant, but God had
other ideas. Instead, I moved to Colorado to wed a man I met online. But that’s
a story for another day.
Grace
and Luke also mirror my faith walk. Just like Grace, I’ve been angry at God
over the years. I blamed Him for not answering my prayers to heal my mother, at
a time in my life when I wasn’t even following Him. And I’ve also experienced a
loving, growing relationship just like Luke does, and I’ve been through the
mountains and valleys of everything in between.
The
good news is that just like with Grace and Luke, God isn’t done with any one of
us yet. We just need to hang in there, get around the next corner, and then be
able to see what He has in store.
Here’s a sneak peek at In Search of Christmas Past:
At the sound of tires
crunching on the snow, Luke Fisher looked up from the stake he was using to
anchor an errant sapling into an upright position. A shiny red sports car eased
through the gate and into the single cleared space in the parking lot. The farm
didn’t open for five days, and he hadn’t gotten around to plowing since the
storm on Saturday.
Luke focused
on the task. Nobody wanted to buy a crooked Christmas tree. The driver was
probably just lost and using the lot to turn around. He pulled the cord taut
and checked the rubber collar around the trunk of the baby tree. Satisfied, he
stood. The driver exited the car and pulled her coat collar around her ears.
Her brown hair escaped her knit cap, and the ends danced around her face.
Luke walked
toward her, feeling underdressed, like a poor country cousin, compared to his
visitor. Her leather jacket hugged her form as though made especially for her.
He glanced at his flannel garment hanging open over a t-shirt and jeans, and
groaned inwardly. This was no way to make an impression on a customer. Or a
woman as lovely as she.
He peeled off
his gloves and extended his right hand. “Welcome to Valley View Nursery. We
don’t open for a few days.”
She returned
the gesture in a solid handshake. Not too strong, no shrinking violet. He liked
that in a woman.
She glanced
at the trees around them. “I’m looking for something.”
“Anything in
particular?”
“A tree.”
“Like I said,
we aren’t open yet, but I guess I could sell you a tree if you find the one you
want.” He eyed the car. “Planning to carry it back on that?”
She studied
the acres of trees covering the hillside. “I don’t want to buy a tree. I’m
looking for something on a bough.”
Luke offered
a smile. “As you can see, we have lots to choose from. And if you don’t see the one you want, we
have about a thousand acres more.”
She stared at
him, one eyebrow lifted.
Luke shoved
his hands in his pockets. Great, she thought he was a babbling idiot. Best to
keep his mouth shut.
She sauntered
down the first row toward a tree all dolled up in Christmas ornaments, and Luke
followed close behind. The frozen ground crunched beneath their feet and the
breeze carried their breath off in clouds.
She pointed
to the Colorado spruce. “Maybe this one.”
Luke waited
near her as she scanned the branches. After a minute or so, she turned. “Any
other decorations?”
“Sure.”
Hitching his head to one side, he walked away in the opposite direction. He
paused at a clearing between the spruces and the scotch pines. “There.”
He loved the
effect this section of the farm had on people, and he wasn’t disappointed by
her response. In typical fashion, her eyes grew large and her mouth formed an
“o” as she stared at the eight trees, bedecked in hundreds of ornaments and
lights. She stepped closer to the first tree and craned her neck to survey the
twelve-foot pine from top to bottom.
At his laugh,
she glared at him. “What’s so funny?”
He sobered.
“I love it when folks see these trees for the first time. Doesn’t matter how
old or young they are, same look on their faces.”
“How nice.”
She turned on her heel and resumed her study.
Or maybe that
wasn’t the right word. Not so much study as search.
“Are you
looking for a particular ornament?”
She kept her
eyes on the tree. “Something to do with the seas.”
Luke followed
her gaze. “Seas?”
She pulled a
piece of paper from her pocket. “Right, and something about being lost.”
“Lost?”
She returned
the note to her pocket. “Is there an echo here?” Tilting her head to one side,
she smiled in his direction. “Nope. No echo.”
Was she
flirting with him? Or taunting him? “Think I’ll sit in my trailer and get
something hot to drink.”
She touched
his forearm. “I’m sorry. I-I need your help.”
He paused and
looked off at the mountains in the distance as if considering her words. Which
he wasn’t. The jolt of electricity at her touch warmed him all the way to his
heart, and he never wanted her to remove her hand. Years had gone by since a
woman said she needed his help. Not since his mother—and never Melanie. No, she
showed him what she needed. Hundred percent diva, that woman. She didn’t need
him. She needed money to support her in the lifestyle to which she wanted to
become accustomed.
And that
wasn’t him.
Surprising
himself, he nodded. “I’ll help. Tell me again what you’re looking for.”
When she
spoke, the wind carried the vapor toward the nearest tree like a wraith. “Seas.
Lost. That’s all I know.”
He pursed his
lips, and a crazy thought burst unbidden into his mind: kissable lips. Heat
rushed to his cheeks at the audacious thought. He didn’t even know this woman’s
name and was already thinking of kissing her? Well, he could correct that
oversight right now. “By the way, my name is Luke Fisher.”
She nodded.
“Grace Bellows.”
“Seas and
lost. Lost at sea? Like a shipwreck, maybe?”
“I don’t
know.”
They walked
around the first tree, tossing out thoughts like breadcrumbs at the duck pond.
Luke pointed.
“Maybe a ship’s anchor?”
“Don’t
usually lose those, do you?”
He dropped
his hand at his side. “Right.” At the next tree, he bent low. “What about a
starfish?”
“Don’t think
so. Something that’s lost at sea, or something from the sea that gets lost.”
At the third
tree, they stood side by side and eyed the ornaments.
Luke pointed
to the rows of trees on either side. “My mother used to decorate these trees.”
“Used to?”
“She died a
couple of years ago. So now I put all these up.” He stared at his feet. Heat
burned his cheeks once again, and he was certain the cold was not to blame.
“Don’t have the same heart for the process she did. More a chore than a joy.”
“I know what
you mean. After my parents died, my grandparents tried to fill the void. That
first Christmas without my mom and dad was the hardest. We reproduced
everything just as they would have done. What a disaster. So we came back to
Colorado for Christmas every year, but it was never the same. When my
grandfather died, we had no reason to come here. And once I started college, it
seemed like we never had the time.”
Listening to
her, frost in the corners of his heart melted. He stared at the mountains in
the distance, forcing the emotions back down where they belonged, unable to
speak past the lump in his throat. After a long moment, he cleared his throat.
“Why are you looking for something that’s lost?”
She opened
the poem again. “The poem says this thing that’s related to the seas isn’t
lost. Says it just seems to be lost.”
He smiled and
snapped his fingers. “Got it.”
They hurried
to the second-to-last tree, and he reached high and pulled down an ornament,
holding the ceramic object in his hand.
She peered
into the cradle created by his fingers. “A seagull?”
“Not a
seagull. Seagulls only live on the oceans. This is a gull. A lot of people
think they’re seagulls that got blown in on a storm.” He laughed. “That would
have to be some storm to blow a bird more than a thousand miles from the
ocean.”
He held the
ornament by its string, the wings outstretched as if soaring on the wind. “No,
these gulls are inland birds. They stick around the metro area, although if the
winter is harsh, they migrate a few hundred miles to southern New Mexico.”
“You sound
like an expert on gulls.”
He set the
ornament into her waiting hands. “Just the son of a birdwatcher. My mother
always said God had a creative mind.” He shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”
Her smile
slipped away. “I’ll be going now. Thanks for your help.”
He didn’t
want her to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Do you think this is what you’re
looking for?”
She shook her
head as she peered at the underside of the ornament. “I’m not sure. I’ve got to
find the next clue.”
“Clue?”
“This is part
of a scavenger hunt my grandmother sent me on.” Grace dangled the bird in front
of her. “Before she died, she set all this up. I just received the first clue
in a poem. And now I’m going to spend my Christmas break trying to figure out a
crazy old woman’s sense of humor.” She looked up at the sky. “If there really
is a heaven, she’s probably up there laughing at me right now.”
He shuffled
his feet. “Well, I know most of the area, so if you have any questions, maybe I
can help.”
She turned a
cold eye on him, studying him from head to toe like an insect under a
microscope. What was he thinking? She had everything she needed. She was smart,
in college no less, had a cool car, and money.
So beautiful
she probably had guys chasing her all the time.
She
represented everything he wanted and didn’t have.
About
In Search of Christmas Past
Grace
Bellows, a senior in college, receives a Christmas card one month after her
grandmother’s death, where her beloved Grammie challenges her to an
old-fashioned scavenger hunt. Raised by her grandmother after her parents’
death in a car accident when she was eight, Grace has lived a jetsetter
lifestyle with her wealthy grandmother. Now all she wants is to settle down and
have a normal life.
Luke
Fisher manages his family’s Christmas tree farm out of a sense of loyalty to
his deceased mother because she gave up her dreams of being an attorney. He
doesn’t want to live with any regrets, and longs to escape the confines of
loyalty to live a life of adventure in the real world.
Can
Grace and Luke solve the clues and uncover the truth about their real feelings,
or will the tension and their differences in goals and faith drive them apart?
