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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Courage / Heroism
- Published: 04/29/2024
Alone
Born 1945, M, from Farmersburg, United States![Alone](/storage/story/D69271F8-3195-A35F-1D6D-906256DC6782_1714432499-image(415x285-crop).jpeg)
The noise came from outside the house. Right under Luke’s bedroom. He his mom and dad had only lived there for a week. Actually, a week tomorrow. His dad was working late and his mother was at a church meeting.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Julie asks looking in the refrigerator.” There’s ham, corn and green beans. You just need to warm them up’”
“Mom, I’m 15 not 5.” Luke grinned at her. “I’ll be fine. It’s summer, so I won’t burn the house down.”
“I know. But we’ve only lived here for a week. In town, if you needed help, you had the Carlsons.”
Mrs. Carlson was in her 70s. When he was born, she became his babysitter. She barely charged anything. Even when Luke turned 15, she trudged up the sidewalk to check on him.
“You have my cell number. Call me if you need anything.” Julie said.
“I will, Mom,” Luke assured her.
“Ok, I should be back before too late.” She said, looking around. “Bye.”
She kissed him on the cheek. Then she was gone.
Luke stood at the kitchen door and watched his mother’s car disappear in a cloud of dust. They had joined the church down the road this last Sunday. A small congregation with just a few teenagers. All of them were older than Luke. It had been a dream of his father and mother to move back to the country. Both of them grew up in rural areas. Over the years, they had visited many places, some for sale, some not. Last year, they even took their vacation on a farm. Luke even got acquainted with some kids at the local church. They still kept in touch by email.
After his mother left, he sauntered out to the barn. New lumber lay just inside the double doors. This last Saturday, he helped his father in repairing the older structure. They had worked on the house for months before moving in. They were carrying the couch out of the moving van when a sheriff’s vehicle came down the lane.
They set the couch on the front porch and waited as the vehicle came to a stop. A deputy stepped out and smiled. “Mr. Dillman heard you were moving in the Billund place.” He extended a hand. “Paul Fillis.”
His dad shook the deputy’s hand. “Yup, hoping to breathe some life into the old place. Phil Dillman.”
The man looked at the house. “You’ve done wonders with the place. Hated to see it go down like that.”
“We’ve still got a way to go, but we’re getting there.”
“I’ll let you get back at it. Just wanted to let you know we’ve had some break-ins lately. Took little, but that could change if they find somebody home.” The deputy walked back to his vehicle. “Call 911 if you see anything. We’ll be here in a jiffy.”
“We’ll do that, thanks.” His dad said. That afternoon, his father schooled him on how and when to use the pistol. Phil smiled. “Always and I mean always have the safety on. I’m not too concerned about you shooting yourself in the foot as you putting a hole in somebody.”
Tonight, after his mother left, Luke wandered around the place. There wasn’t much to explore. The barn. The pen used to keep the cattle. That is, if they had cattle. The only residents at the pond were the frogs. Soybean fields surrounded them, followed by a small wood. He returned to the house and microwaved his dinner.
Finished, he retired to his room to play a game on his computer. Luke was at level 6 when he heard a scraping. He paused the game to listen. Voices. Were those voices coming from the backyard? His heart in his throat, he listened.
He realized the sun had set, and the voices were not coming from the game. His hands shook. Someone was trying to break into his house. He had been so absorbed in the game he hadn’t turned on the lights. One could see the glow of the computer as a screen saver. He wanted to cry. He swallowed, holding back the tears. Luke sneaked into his parents’ room. Cautiously, he looked out the window overlooking the door to the kitchen. Two men stood in the gloom. They argued. Ski masks covered the faces of both men.
“I tell you there’s nobody home.” One said.
“What about the light?”
“I don’t know. Not enough light for anybody to see by. Let’s get this done.” The other one said.
“Ok.” He applied a crowbar to the back door.
Trembling, Luke took out his cell phone and punched in 911. The voice on the other end seemed loud.
“911, what is your emergency?” The voice calling sounded young, not a child, but not an adult.
“Some…someone is breaking into our house,” Luke whispered. There were tears in his voice.
The 911 dispatcher calmed her voice. The boy, she could tell it was a child, just barely a teenager. Her heart speeded up. “Are your parent’s home?” She said, typing in the address.
Paul Fillis was on the other side of the county. With lights and siren blaring, he took off. He topped a hill on Highway 55 doing 80. He brought it up to 90. This was the break they had been waiting for. Hopefully, he would catch the robbers tonight.
“Are your parent’s home?” The dispatcher repeated.
Tears coursing down his cheeks, he said. “No dads at work and moms at church.”
She typed in one word. Alone.
There was a crash. The back door had given way. “They’re in the house. They’re in the house.” Luke whispered into the phone. His heart speeding up, his breath came in short, sharp bursts.
Paul brought his vehicle up to 100. He flew around a curve. 10 miles to go. He could feel the adrenalin pumping. “Tell the boy to hide. Tell the boy to hide.” He said to the inside of the vehicle.
“Is there somewhere you can hide?” she said, wishing she could be there to protect him.
Paul glanced at the screen. Alone. He brought his vehicle up to 110.
“Oh, Lord protect him.” He murmured.
“They’re in the house, they’re in the house.” Tears dripping off his chin, he slid open his parents’ bedside table. Luke didn’t want to do it. The pistol felt heavy in his hands. He heard them on the stairs.
“They’re coming up the stairs. They’re coming up the stairs. “ Luke almost whined. He felt like he was 8 years old instead of 15. Panicking, he looked around. The Closet. Quietly, he opened the door and hid among the hanging clothes. “I’m in the closet in my parents’ room. I…I have a gun.”
Catching her breath, the dispatcher typed in. Teenager has a gun. “Only use it to protect yourself. The deputy is just a minute or two away.” She said, trying to calm him.
“Ok. They’re coming into my mom and dad’s bedroom.” Luke whispered; his eyes filled with tears. He slipped the phone into his pocket. The dispatcher listened. Paul knew to shut off his light and siren at least a mile away. Luke heard the robbers rifling through the chest of drawers. Trembling, he gripped the pistol in both hands. Safety, he forgot about the safety. He switched it off. Weeping now, he pointed at the closet door.
“I gonna check in here. I…ge... “ The explosion split the air and the robber’s hair. He screamed like a little girl.
The dispatcher jumped.
Paul was just coming into the driveway when he heard a shot.
Two men exploded out of the house at a dead run. He almost hit them. Skidding to a stop, Paul jumped out and pulled his pistol. Two more shots came from the house.
“On the ground now.” Paul shouted. The men slid to a stop and stretched out on the ground. Paul kept his pistol on them. “Hands behind your back.” He switched his searchlight on the two men.
He cuffed them. The boy came out of the house, his dad’s pistol dangling from his right hand. He dropped it on the doorstep, then set down crying uncontrollably. Paul peeled off the ski masks. One robber was just a boy. Paul was very glad he hadn’t shot them.
The older robber said. “He…he shot me.” Paul looked at the scalp wound and grinned. “I’ll get you a band aid. Shoulda been just a little lower.”
He said into his radio. “Better send medical. The boy grazed one robber.”
In five minutes, police vehicles filled the yard. His mom came flying up the lane. Sliding to a halt, she jumped out and ran to her son. Julie folded him in her arms. Luke wept on her shoulder, wetting her blouse. A few minutes later, his dad drove in. He spoke to Paul and then joined his family. Phil smiled and patted his son on the back. “You sure scared the daylights out of one robber.”
Paul approached the family. “One robber would like to speak to you.” He indicated Luke.
“Me? Why. No.” Luke stammered.
“Says he knows you from church.” Paul said. “Names Zimmerman. Nick Zimmerman.”
“I think you need to speak to him, son.” His dad said.
Luke’s mouth dropped open. “I know him. He came to the youth group meeting once or twice.”
“Look, you don’t have to do this unless you want to.” Paul said.
“Is...are his parents here?” He asks.
Paul’s expression became grim. “That’s his dad in the SUV over there.” He pointed to one of the sheriff’s vehicles.
“His dad was the other robber?” Luke said.
“Yup, afraid so,” Paul said, shaking his head.
Cautiously, Luke approached the SUV, where Nick set, his head bowed. The deputy guarding the teenager stepped back. “Don’t get too close.” He warned him.
“Yes, sir.” Luke said. Nick looked up, his eyes filled with tears. They spilled over, running down his cheeks.
“You wanted to see me,” Luke said more harshly than he intended.
Nick lifted his head. Luke had promised himself he wouldn’t be soft. “I’m sorry, I shoulda listened to my mom. She asks me not to go with Dad,” Nick said.
“Why did you?” Luke asks. Endeavoring to keep his voice steady.
“It’s been so long since I saw him. He’s been in prison. Mom and dad divorced long ago. I thought maybe he had changed.” Nick dissolved into tears. He looked up at Luke. “I thought you were going to kill us.”
Luke smiled, his resolve gone. “And I thought I was going to shoot my foot off.”
“You weren’t shooting at us?” Nick said.
“No, I was just trying to hold on to the gun. It just kept going off,” Luke said.
Nick grinned. The deputy laughed. “I guess we won’t be recommending you for the SWAT team.”
Over the next few weeks, things changed for Luke and Nick. Several times, Luke visited Nick at the juvenile center. Nick’s father went back to prison for another 9-year stretch.
The morning came when it was time for Nick to stand before the judge. Several weeks before, Luke’s father called him into the living room. He held his open Bible, pointing to a verse in Ephesians. Luke read, ‘Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’
“So you think I should forgive him?” Luke said.
“He’s had a rough life. You do what you believe The Lord wants you to do.” Phil said.
So this morning, as Nick stood before the judge, Luke stood by his side.
In his career as a juvenile judge, Robert Morse had seen it all. Or at least he thought he had. Morse looked at the two teenagers standing before him. He read the report again. He almost smiled.
“Nick, I see here you failed several subjects in school? Why is that?”
“I have no excuse, your honor.” Nick said.
“Your biological father is serving time in one of our fine correctional facilities? Would you like for me to put you in the cell next to him?” Morse said. He knew what he was going to do.
Nick’s mother set behind her son on the same bench as Luke’s parents. Nick paled, as did his mother. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Morse remained unaffected. In his years on the bench, he had met many well-meaning parents who now saw it too late to correct their son or daughter. He frowned at Nick.
“I…” Nick cleared his throat. He promised himself no matter what the judge said, he would change his life. “I’ve changed my life.”
Morse believed it. He had reports before him of correctional staff. How respectful the teenager was and how he followed all orders.
“Luke, do you believe him?” Morse asks.
Luke steadied his voice. “Yes, your honor. He is now attending the Christian services at the juvenile center.”
“Many people attend religious services. It does nothing to change their lives.” Morse said. “However, I ask you, do you believe Nick has changed?”
Luke straightened his back and took a deep breath. He steadied his voice. “Yes, your honor. I believe he has.”
He looked at the two young men before him. What he said next would change Nick’s life forever. “Alright, based on your testimony and the reports I have before me, I sentence you to one year probation.” He pointed at Nick. “I will see you in this courtroom one year from today.”
Nick felt faint. He set down; all strength gone out of him. Tears moistened his eyes. “I…I’ll not disappoint you, your honor.”
“See that you don’t.” He smiled. “Luke, it is a joy to have you in my courtroom.”
“Thank you, your honor,” Luke said.
“You see to this young man.” Robert Morse said. He indicated Nick, who was now hugging his weeping mother.
“Yes, sir,” Luke said, smiling.
Over the next year, Luke and Nick developed a strong friendship. Luke’s family included Nick and his mother in their Christmas dinner. Nick gained weight and became more confident.
A year later, Nick stood before judge Morse. Morse looked at the report again. He raised his head and smiled. “Well, Nick, has it been a year?”
“Yes, your honor, a year today.” Nick said. This morning, he stood alone. Yet he wasn’t alone. Luke, his family, the pastor, and several members of the church filled the galley.
“I see from looking at this report not one bad thing about you.” He picked up a shaft of papers. “I do, however, have many letters exemplifying your moral character.”
Suddenly, the judge stepped down from the bench. Not knowing what to do, everyone in the courtroom stood to their feet. The judge came around to where Nick stood. Judge Morse held out his hand. “Young man, I commend you. You have made great strides in your life.” Nick shook the judge’s hand. Morse swept his left hand to the galley. “And with the support and love of those here today, you will never be alone.”
Alone(Darrell Case)
The noise came from outside the house. Right under Luke’s bedroom. He his mom and dad had only lived there for a week. Actually, a week tomorrow. His dad was working late and his mother was at a church meeting.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Julie asks looking in the refrigerator.” There’s ham, corn and green beans. You just need to warm them up’”
“Mom, I’m 15 not 5.” Luke grinned at her. “I’ll be fine. It’s summer, so I won’t burn the house down.”
“I know. But we’ve only lived here for a week. In town, if you needed help, you had the Carlsons.”
Mrs. Carlson was in her 70s. When he was born, she became his babysitter. She barely charged anything. Even when Luke turned 15, she trudged up the sidewalk to check on him.
“You have my cell number. Call me if you need anything.” Julie said.
“I will, Mom,” Luke assured her.
“Ok, I should be back before too late.” She said, looking around. “Bye.”
She kissed him on the cheek. Then she was gone.
Luke stood at the kitchen door and watched his mother’s car disappear in a cloud of dust. They had joined the church down the road this last Sunday. A small congregation with just a few teenagers. All of them were older than Luke. It had been a dream of his father and mother to move back to the country. Both of them grew up in rural areas. Over the years, they had visited many places, some for sale, some not. Last year, they even took their vacation on a farm. Luke even got acquainted with some kids at the local church. They still kept in touch by email.
After his mother left, he sauntered out to the barn. New lumber lay just inside the double doors. This last Saturday, he helped his father in repairing the older structure. They had worked on the house for months before moving in. They were carrying the couch out of the moving van when a sheriff’s vehicle came down the lane.
They set the couch on the front porch and waited as the vehicle came to a stop. A deputy stepped out and smiled. “Mr. Dillman heard you were moving in the Billund place.” He extended a hand. “Paul Fillis.”
His dad shook the deputy’s hand. “Yup, hoping to breathe some life into the old place. Phil Dillman.”
The man looked at the house. “You’ve done wonders with the place. Hated to see it go down like that.”
“We’ve still got a way to go, but we’re getting there.”
“I’ll let you get back at it. Just wanted to let you know we’ve had some break-ins lately. Took little, but that could change if they find somebody home.” The deputy walked back to his vehicle. “Call 911 if you see anything. We’ll be here in a jiffy.”
“We’ll do that, thanks.” His dad said. That afternoon, his father schooled him on how and when to use the pistol. Phil smiled. “Always and I mean always have the safety on. I’m not too concerned about you shooting yourself in the foot as you putting a hole in somebody.”
Tonight, after his mother left, Luke wandered around the place. There wasn’t much to explore. The barn. The pen used to keep the cattle. That is, if they had cattle. The only residents at the pond were the frogs. Soybean fields surrounded them, followed by a small wood. He returned to the house and microwaved his dinner.
Finished, he retired to his room to play a game on his computer. Luke was at level 6 when he heard a scraping. He paused the game to listen. Voices. Were those voices coming from the backyard? His heart in his throat, he listened.
He realized the sun had set, and the voices were not coming from the game. His hands shook. Someone was trying to break into his house. He had been so absorbed in the game he hadn’t turned on the lights. One could see the glow of the computer as a screen saver. He wanted to cry. He swallowed, holding back the tears. Luke sneaked into his parents’ room. Cautiously, he looked out the window overlooking the door to the kitchen. Two men stood in the gloom. They argued. Ski masks covered the faces of both men.
“I tell you there’s nobody home.” One said.
“What about the light?”
“I don’t know. Not enough light for anybody to see by. Let’s get this done.” The other one said.
“Ok.” He applied a crowbar to the back door.
Trembling, Luke took out his cell phone and punched in 911. The voice on the other end seemed loud.
“911, what is your emergency?” The voice calling sounded young, not a child, but not an adult.
“Some…someone is breaking into our house,” Luke whispered. There were tears in his voice.
The 911 dispatcher calmed her voice. The boy, she could tell it was a child, just barely a teenager. Her heart speeded up. “Are your parent’s home?” She said, typing in the address.
Paul Fillis was on the other side of the county. With lights and siren blaring, he took off. He topped a hill on Highway 55 doing 80. He brought it up to 90. This was the break they had been waiting for. Hopefully, he would catch the robbers tonight.
“Are your parent’s home?” The dispatcher repeated.
Tears coursing down his cheeks, he said. “No dads at work and moms at church.”
She typed in one word. Alone.
There was a crash. The back door had given way. “They’re in the house. They’re in the house.” Luke whispered into the phone. His heart speeding up, his breath came in short, sharp bursts.
Paul brought his vehicle up to 100. He flew around a curve. 10 miles to go. He could feel the adrenalin pumping. “Tell the boy to hide. Tell the boy to hide.” He said to the inside of the vehicle.
“Is there somewhere you can hide?” she said, wishing she could be there to protect him.
Paul glanced at the screen. Alone. He brought his vehicle up to 110.
“Oh, Lord protect him.” He murmured.
“They’re in the house, they’re in the house.” Tears dripping off his chin, he slid open his parents’ bedside table. Luke didn’t want to do it. The pistol felt heavy in his hands. He heard them on the stairs.
“They’re coming up the stairs. They’re coming up the stairs. “ Luke almost whined. He felt like he was 8 years old instead of 15. Panicking, he looked around. The Closet. Quietly, he opened the door and hid among the hanging clothes. “I’m in the closet in my parents’ room. I…I have a gun.”
Catching her breath, the dispatcher typed in. Teenager has a gun. “Only use it to protect yourself. The deputy is just a minute or two away.” She said, trying to calm him.
“Ok. They’re coming into my mom and dad’s bedroom.” Luke whispered; his eyes filled with tears. He slipped the phone into his pocket. The dispatcher listened. Paul knew to shut off his light and siren at least a mile away. Luke heard the robbers rifling through the chest of drawers. Trembling, he gripped the pistol in both hands. Safety, he forgot about the safety. He switched it off. Weeping now, he pointed at the closet door.
“I gonna check in here. I…ge... “ The explosion split the air and the robber’s hair. He screamed like a little girl.
The dispatcher jumped.
Paul was just coming into the driveway when he heard a shot.
Two men exploded out of the house at a dead run. He almost hit them. Skidding to a stop, Paul jumped out and pulled his pistol. Two more shots came from the house.
“On the ground now.” Paul shouted. The men slid to a stop and stretched out on the ground. Paul kept his pistol on them. “Hands behind your back.” He switched his searchlight on the two men.
He cuffed them. The boy came out of the house, his dad’s pistol dangling from his right hand. He dropped it on the doorstep, then set down crying uncontrollably. Paul peeled off the ski masks. One robber was just a boy. Paul was very glad he hadn’t shot them.
The older robber said. “He…he shot me.” Paul looked at the scalp wound and grinned. “I’ll get you a band aid. Shoulda been just a little lower.”
He said into his radio. “Better send medical. The boy grazed one robber.”
In five minutes, police vehicles filled the yard. His mom came flying up the lane. Sliding to a halt, she jumped out and ran to her son. Julie folded him in her arms. Luke wept on her shoulder, wetting her blouse. A few minutes later, his dad drove in. He spoke to Paul and then joined his family. Phil smiled and patted his son on the back. “You sure scared the daylights out of one robber.”
Paul approached the family. “One robber would like to speak to you.” He indicated Luke.
“Me? Why. No.” Luke stammered.
“Says he knows you from church.” Paul said. “Names Zimmerman. Nick Zimmerman.”
“I think you need to speak to him, son.” His dad said.
Luke’s mouth dropped open. “I know him. He came to the youth group meeting once or twice.”
“Look, you don’t have to do this unless you want to.” Paul said.
“Is...are his parents here?” He asks.
Paul’s expression became grim. “That’s his dad in the SUV over there.” He pointed to one of the sheriff’s vehicles.
“His dad was the other robber?” Luke said.
“Yup, afraid so,” Paul said, shaking his head.
Cautiously, Luke approached the SUV, where Nick set, his head bowed. The deputy guarding the teenager stepped back. “Don’t get too close.” He warned him.
“Yes, sir.” Luke said. Nick looked up, his eyes filled with tears. They spilled over, running down his cheeks.
“You wanted to see me,” Luke said more harshly than he intended.
Nick lifted his head. Luke had promised himself he wouldn’t be soft. “I’m sorry, I shoulda listened to my mom. She asks me not to go with Dad,” Nick said.
“Why did you?” Luke asks. Endeavoring to keep his voice steady.
“It’s been so long since I saw him. He’s been in prison. Mom and dad divorced long ago. I thought maybe he had changed.” Nick dissolved into tears. He looked up at Luke. “I thought you were going to kill us.”
Luke smiled, his resolve gone. “And I thought I was going to shoot my foot off.”
“You weren’t shooting at us?” Nick said.
“No, I was just trying to hold on to the gun. It just kept going off,” Luke said.
Nick grinned. The deputy laughed. “I guess we won’t be recommending you for the SWAT team.”
Over the next few weeks, things changed for Luke and Nick. Several times, Luke visited Nick at the juvenile center. Nick’s father went back to prison for another 9-year stretch.
The morning came when it was time for Nick to stand before the judge. Several weeks before, Luke’s father called him into the living room. He held his open Bible, pointing to a verse in Ephesians. Luke read, ‘Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’
“So you think I should forgive him?” Luke said.
“He’s had a rough life. You do what you believe The Lord wants you to do.” Phil said.
So this morning, as Nick stood before the judge, Luke stood by his side.
In his career as a juvenile judge, Robert Morse had seen it all. Or at least he thought he had. Morse looked at the two teenagers standing before him. He read the report again. He almost smiled.
“Nick, I see here you failed several subjects in school? Why is that?”
“I have no excuse, your honor.” Nick said.
“Your biological father is serving time in one of our fine correctional facilities? Would you like for me to put you in the cell next to him?” Morse said. He knew what he was going to do.
Nick’s mother set behind her son on the same bench as Luke’s parents. Nick paled, as did his mother. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Morse remained unaffected. In his years on the bench, he had met many well-meaning parents who now saw it too late to correct their son or daughter. He frowned at Nick.
“I…” Nick cleared his throat. He promised himself no matter what the judge said, he would change his life. “I’ve changed my life.”
Morse believed it. He had reports before him of correctional staff. How respectful the teenager was and how he followed all orders.
“Luke, do you believe him?” Morse asks.
Luke steadied his voice. “Yes, your honor. He is now attending the Christian services at the juvenile center.”
“Many people attend religious services. It does nothing to change their lives.” Morse said. “However, I ask you, do you believe Nick has changed?”
Luke straightened his back and took a deep breath. He steadied his voice. “Yes, your honor. I believe he has.”
He looked at the two young men before him. What he said next would change Nick’s life forever. “Alright, based on your testimony and the reports I have before me, I sentence you to one year probation.” He pointed at Nick. “I will see you in this courtroom one year from today.”
Nick felt faint. He set down; all strength gone out of him. Tears moistened his eyes. “I…I’ll not disappoint you, your honor.”
“See that you don’t.” He smiled. “Luke, it is a joy to have you in my courtroom.”
“Thank you, your honor,” Luke said.
“You see to this young man.” Robert Morse said. He indicated Nick, who was now hugging his weeping mother.
“Yes, sir,” Luke said, smiling.
Over the next year, Luke and Nick developed a strong friendship. Luke’s family included Nick and his mother in their Christmas dinner. Nick gained weight and became more confident.
A year later, Nick stood before judge Morse. Morse looked at the report again. He raised his head and smiled. “Well, Nick, has it been a year?”
“Yes, your honor, a year today.” Nick said. This morning, he stood alone. Yet he wasn’t alone. Luke, his family, the pastor, and several members of the church filled the galley.
“I see from looking at this report not one bad thing about you.” He picked up a shaft of papers. “I do, however, have many letters exemplifying your moral character.”
Suddenly, the judge stepped down from the bench. Not knowing what to do, everyone in the courtroom stood to their feet. The judge came around to where Nick stood. Judge Morse held out his hand. “Young man, I commend you. You have made great strides in your life.” Nick shook the judge’s hand. Morse swept his left hand to the galley. “And with the support and love of those here today, you will never be alone.”
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Shirley Smothers
06/02/2024What an inspuring story. Glad to see a young Man turn his life around. A feel good story. Cingratulations on Short Story Star of the Day.
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Cheryl Ryan
06/02/2024I love Luck's bravery in helping to get the thieves caught. I also applaud the parents for teaching him self defence skills
Such a wonderful read. Thank you for sharing!
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Darrell Case
06/03/2024Cheryl
Thank you. It was a joy to write the story. I hope you're doing well.
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