Lovers of the Pen

I was inspired by this great post over at Katherine Sophia's blog to introduce you to some of my couples - my movie characters who are in love, courting/dating, married, or otherwise composed of a boy and a girl who like each other very much.

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Tyler Stevens and Cecily Joy Sands - Various Stories

Tyler Stevens and Cecily Joy "CJ" Sands are a young, newly courting couple who are both at a small Christian college in their hometown, but they actually met at church. They've been through several "half-stories" together - I've never been able to pull together a full book about them - but they have cute personalities and a sweet little relationship.

In this scene that I chose, Tyler asked CJ to accompany him to the wedding of one of his non-Christian cousins, and when CJ finds herself surrounded by his worldly-wise relatives, she feels plain, dowdy, and childish. This is Tyler's response (written several years ago when my stories were mostly composed of choppy dialogue).

       He put his hands on my shoulders and drilled my heart with his blazing black eyes. “CJ, I love you the way you are. I want you to be proud of the way God has made you, and proud of being innocent and modest. Do you hear me?”
       Suddenly I had a helium-filled cavern where I should feel a heartbeat; all I felt was a dizzy floating feeling inside. I wanted to jump up on a pew and scream for everyone to look at me, because Tyler loved me the way I was!
       “Do you hear me?” he demanded, still frowning.
       Suddenly I had tears in my eyes, and I could only nod. He probably thought I was hurt by his being angry, because his scowl melted into a concerned look. “I’m not mad at you, CJ,” he said quickly. “I just want you to know that I’m proud of you! You’re not upset, are you?”
       Yes, so upset that I’m going to bawl and everybody’s going to think I’m a mental case, I thought, but gave him a wobbly smile. “No, I’m not upset, Ty. Do you really feel that way?”
       “Yes!” Tyler offered his arm again and hastily pulled me back into the crowd so we didn’t look weird. “Now smile and be proud of who God made you!”

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Timothy and Lady Anna of Sherwood - Light of the World

Source: hakubaikou.deviantart.com via Story on Pinterest

Tim and Anna are a remarkable couple. They are Protestant-esque dissenters living in the spiritually dark times of the Middle Ages, and they have a tremendous gift: they are one of only a handful of people in the world who have a copy of the Latin Bible. Anna's family fell from political favor and had to flee for their lives to escape death; Tim and his sister Sarah rescued them, and as they helped smuggle them to France, they also introduced Anna and her family to the true Gospel for the first time. Anna grew up, in years and in faith, in Switzerland; and many years later, Tim traveled from England to come sweep her off her feet and take her home to be his wife and partner in the Gospel work. It's the greatest romance I've ever written.

       “Tim, look!” Anna pushed away the blanket and jumped excitedly to her knees in the rowboat. “Tim! There’s England!”
       Tim turned to look; and sure enough, the dark English coast loomed along the far horizon. Anna drank in the sight greedily—her first glimpse of her homeland in five years.
       “I didn’t think I’d ever see England again,” she said in an awed whisper. “But here we are, returning after all these years.”
       “Aye.” Tim looked at the dark, rocky coast for a long moment. “Look how dark it is. It’s like that spiritually, too.”
       Anna nodded, thinking of the Saxons and Normans who fought each other over their heritage, the monks with all of their rules, and even her own family who lived in spiritual confusion and darkness.
       “Y’know,” Tim went on, “as far as I know, we’re the only ones who were chased from England that have ever come back.”
       Anna nodded again. None of the other English Dissenters in their Swiss town had ever shown any desire to return to the land where they had suffered so much.
       “And each time another Christian is forced to leave, they take a little more of the light with them.” Tim turned slowly back to the oars. “England grows darker every day.”
       “That’s why we’re bringing the light back to them.” Anna clung to the side of the boat, staring at the distant shore. “Perhaps we’re only a little light right now; but the Bible says that God makes His angels and ministers as flames of fire. We can set other souls on fire through our example. Next year Will and Sarah will come, and we can begin working together. Then will come all of Rob’s teachers, the men from the school, bringing and copying Bibles to start teaching other towns and villages all over England.”
       “Aye, and each one will bring a little more light.” Tim’s eyes sparkled, and he held Anna around the waist. “Anna, darling, this is only the beginning. Someday England will be light again, full of the light of the Gospel.”
       Anna put her hands on Tim’s shoulders and smiled at her husband, her brother in Christ, her best friend. “If you say so, Tim, then it’s true. But anything that any of us can do in England will be because of you and your faith.”

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Swift Spear and White Birch - Unnamed Story

In 1858, Jessamine Hale gave up her teaching job to travel West with her parents and younger siblings, from Ohio to Wyoming, as they joined their old pastor in opening a mission school for settlers and Indian children - but on the way, they were attacked by a rogue band of Arapaho raiders; and Jessamine was captured and dragged back to the village, not knowing if her family were alive or dead.

Jessamine becomes the village slave, and there she meets the chief's noble and wise son, Swift Spear. He is quietly interested in learning about her faith; he allows her to teach the other women about God, and her gentle ways and true love for the people earn her a special place in the tribe. She is given a new name, White Birch, and many of the people accept Christ - including Swift Spear. When the strong, grave warrior asks her to be his wife, she decides to turn her back on her old life and give him her heart.

Then her brother Thomas appears in the village ... and he wants her to come home.

       Thomas’ mouth fell open. “You could have come home and you didn’t?”
       “Yes, that’s right.”
       Thomas looked hurt and confused. He looked at his hands for a long minute; when he spoke again, his voice trembled with restrained emotion. “Jessamine, Ma and Pa have worried about you all these years. Sarah and me, too – our families, our children – we never gave up looking for you. We asked everyone who came into the mission if they had seen you. Everyone. We probably asked your husband and he said no.”
       Swift Spear shook his head and answered quietly. “No, I was never asked whether I had seen her. I would not have lied if I had been asked.”
       Thomas coldly ignored him and went on. “If Ma and Pa knew you could have come home, and you didn’t want to, it would break their hearts. You can’t … there’s no way for me to tell you how much Ma cried over you. Even Pa cried for months. They kept believing you were alive, and that they’d get you back.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Nothing was the same after you disappeared. I promised Pa I’d do everything I could to help. Bringing you home would’ve been the best help he could get – maybe he would have gotten over this injury faster. He could be dying, Jessamine.”
       Tears began to rise in my throat at the thought of Ma and Pa crying for me. Couldn’t I just go back and see them? Even just for a couple of days – surely a couple of days couldn’t hurt anything. I wouldn't turn my back on the Arapaho during just a few days back at the mission, surely. “I’m sorry, Thomas,” I whispered, and bowed my head in shame.
       But when I looked down, my eyes fell on Grace, who had dozed off in my arms. And the sight of her little brown face flushed with sleep, her soft black hair and her little head no bigger than my hand, brought everything back into its proper place. My daughter and my husband were the most important things in my life now. What was best for my family? Looking at my sleeping baby, I had no doubt.
       I lifted my head and met Thomas’ piercing eyes with my back straight. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help Ma and Pa quit worrying. I wanted to go and see them – I still do. But, Thomas, my life has changed. I’m in love. I’m married. I have a daughter and a life of my own – I help the people study the Bible, I help with the feasts and celebrations, I watch the children of my sisters-in-law so they can do their work. I make clothes and wash them, I cook, I clean the house, I help my neighbors with their chores. I help with the meat after a big hunt. I help my family birth their babies and bury their dead – they’ve helped us with the same things. Would you expect Ma to just pack up and leave her life to go back and see her parents? It’s been far longer since she’s seen them. But she has a life and a family, and so do I. How can you ask me to leave?”
       “Because this isn’t your home!” Thomas cried and clapped a hand on top of mine. “You don’t belong here! You were taken out of your culture and your family – listen, you’re not even speaking your own language!” He switched from Arapaho to English. “There, how long has it been since you heard English? You’re not an Indian, Jessamine, and you belong with your own people!”

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Father Jonathan and Krista Miller - Forever Divided

  

Ah ... the tragic romance. Someone told me a true story once about a young priest and a young woman in his church who fell deeply in love; but he had already taken his vows, so they could not get married. I was so fascinated by the tragic story that I had to write a story about them, using my own names and personalities. They are an exception to my usual goofy-romance rule - their love is strong, bright, and terribly sad.

(And yes, Father Jonathan is rather unashamedly based on the rather good-looking Fox News correspondent of the same name. If I ever were serious about publishing this story, I would definitely change his name.)

In one version of the story, Father Jonathan meets Krista in the aftermath of a deadly tornado:

       My heart stopped for an instant. “Hello?” My eyes frantically skimmed the piles of gray, dead rubble for some bit of living color. “Where are you?”
       “In here! Oh please, please help me!”
       The woman’s voice came from behind a closed door I hadn’t seen before, right beside the smashed dishwasher. I stumbled across the debris and shoved at the handle. The door was wedged solidly shut.
       “It’s stuck,” I called through the flimsy wood. “Can you move around? Are you hurt?”
       “No,” the woman sobbed. “Please hurry!”
       “All right. Stand back,” I ordered; and I ducked my head and rammed my shoulder through the wood.
       The room was a tiny bathroom with a toilet and a sink – all four walls and the roof miraculously intact. The woman had ducked under the sink. She lifted her head. Two and a half feet of shiny auburn hair fell away from her face like a veil, and I was staring into the purest blue eyes in the most delicate face I had ever seen. Two spots of rosy pink glowed in her pale, tear-streaked face; she smoothed her long denim skirt self-consciously with one hand as she stumbled to her feet.
       I stood and stared at her for several seconds, and she stared back at me. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I felt like I had entered the presence of an angel. For nearly six hours I had been working alongside rough and desperate people, most of them cursing God, or at least or cursing me, a priest, for being on His side. But this girl had an aura of fragile beauty, a glow of innocence and spirituality, like a fresh summer breeze.
       I realized I should say something. “You’re not hurt,” I stammered.
       She shook her head. “No, I’m not hurt,” she whispered, and rubbed her nose on her wrist. After composing herself, she looked up and smiled a little. “Thank you so much for getting me out. I’ve been so scared – not for myself,” she added quickly; “I’m a Christian, and I know God was with me, watching over me. But I’m afraid for my parents. They were at church, and I don’t know where they are now.”
       I nodded. “Well, they’ve set up a gathering place down at the courthouse, where everyone is going to meet up with their families. I can take you there.”
       “I would appreciate that,” she said gratefully, and reached for my hand to steady herself as she carefully climbed over the debris blocking the door. A funny feeling sped up my heart when I touched her slim hand.

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Do any of these stories sound promising? Which is your favorite?  :-)

Love,
Vicki