On The Make is Book 3 in my latest series, Brothers In
Blue. Four heroes who met at the police academy and became life long friends. The
dropout, the straight arrow, the movie star and the maverick. All share a
passion to serve and protect, each in their own unique way.
A while back on these pages, February 11 to be exact, I
shared the first five paragraphs of On The Make, along with a plea for help in
getting the words right. At that time, I had essentially five paragraphs of
introspection and very little dialogue. Since the story opens at a
funeral, and deals with my heroine’s
reaction to being there with her two sons, many of my ROP buds thought maybe I
needed to lighten the prose up a bit.
Now back from the drawing board, this is what I’ve come up
with.
“Let us pray.”
Madison Clark dutifully lowered her head, along with scores
of others in the huge, impersonal auditorium. In her case, more for show than
reverence. Who held a funeral at a place like this? The Greater Metro
Conference and Convention Center. Then again, nothing about her marriage to
Joe, short as it was, could be construed as normal. Why should anything change
now that he was gone?
“Dear Lord, we commit Joseph Eugene Edward Ralls, this once
earthly soul, to your able and compassionate care.”
Dear Lord. Please don’t let him run
into Dave.
Despite the solemn nature of the occasion, she couldn’t
hold off invading memories of a previous life changing event. Hard to believe
three short years earlier she’d buried one husband, the love of her life and
soulmate, with her young sons, and his, on either side of her.
“Almighty God, we ask that you grant those of us left
behind the guidance to understand and the patience to accept your decision.”
The minister’s voice invaded her thoughts. Keeping her head
down, she shifted her hips more snuggled in the plush stadium style chair and
sat straighter. A mere thirty six months later, front and center in the
jam-packed amphitheater, she prepared to bury spouse number two.
Back when their father died, Dak, the sensitive one, sobbed so
loudly during a solo of Amazing Grace, he drowned out the lyrics. At eight, he
was old enough to understand and process the chaos of event since his father’s
unexpected, and lethal, leukemia diagnosis. While not able to make sense of it
at all. Cameron, two years older, and already stoic and long suffering like his
dad, hadn’t moved a muscle during the entire service.
Much as he was now.
“In your name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen.” Madison murmured the response along with so many
others in the room.
As all their heads came up as a single unit, her thoughts
remained on her two boys.
Now older and more mature, each exhibited no more emotion
than simple boredom as the accolades went on and on for their mother’s late
husband.
Okay now. Be honest. I can take it. Does this work or no?
The story does lighten up from there. I promise.
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