Lori Wick Short Stories, Vol. 2: Beyond the Picket Fence

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Verses marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible, © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)

  Cover by Harvest House Publishers

  Cover photo © Natalia Klenova / Shutterstock

  LORI WICK SHORT STORIES, VOL. 2

  Selected from Beyond the Picket Fence

  Copyright © 1998 Lori Wick

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  ISBN 978-0-7369-6841-6 (eBook)

  All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.

  Contents

  A Note to Readers

  Beyond the Picket Fence

  free sample: Where the Wild Rose Blooms

  free sample: A Journey by Chance

  More eBooks in the Lori Wick Short Stories Collection

  Other Books by Lori Wick

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  A Note to Readers

  Dear Reader,

  Lori Wick’s novels of faith and romance have touched generations of readers, pointing us all to the great, redemptive power of God’s love. We’re now very excited to present to you Lori Wick’s short stories in ebook form for the first time ever!

  The Lori Wick Short Stories collection is designed especially for ebook lovers. Each volume contains one or two Lori Wick short stories (previously available only in the print book Beyond the Picket Fence) along with bonus content: an excerpt from one of Lori’s beloved novels and notes from Lori with behind-the-scenes insight into her writing.

  Here at Harvest House we have been honored to partner with Lori in sharing God’s love through the power of story. It is a privilege for us to share this collection with you, and we know you’ll enjoy these happy endings!

  Blessings from our house to yours,

  Harvest House Publishers

  Beyond the Picket Fence

  An excellent wife, who can find?

  For her worth is far above jewels.

  Proverbs 31:10

  “I can’t think why you want to do this,” her editor had said, but she wouldn’t listen.

  “I’ve never liked New York City,” she had told him as she continued to pack. “And then the house I was raised in, the one in Pine Tree, Vermont, went on the market. I just bought it; we closed the deal this afternoon.”

  “But you don’t even have family left there.” The elegantly dressed editor had looked stunned.

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s a great town with a super church. I’ve made up my mind, Monty,” she said, facing him squarely. “I’m going to move home and write my books there.”

  That had been just two short months ago. Now, Dominique J. Brinks, “Nikki” to nearly everyone, stood looking at her spacious living room, boxes piled everywhere, and wondered at her own sanity. It had sounded so ideal, but the whole point had been to leave the mad rush of New York City behind and have time to write. She wondered if she could even find her computer in all of this. There was a box marked “computer,” but she had found office supplies inside. In the midst of her tumultuous thoughts, the doorbell rang. Nikki waded her way to the door and found a man from the phone company on the step.

  “Am I ever glad to see you,” she told him as he came across the threshold.

  “Most people feel that way,” he said with a smile. “Where do you want me to begin?”

  Nikki showed him the place in her bedroom upstairs, the area where she wanted a phone in the kitchen, and the spot in the spacious dining room off the kitchen. The house wasn’t huge, but she knew she would spend the majority of her time in those three areas, and it was easier to install three phones than to wander around with a cordless and forget where she last left it.

  Since the house had had phone lines before, the man didn’t need much time, and Nikki was thrilled when he handed her the local phone book and her new number. He said he’d already called into the office and everything was working fine. In a burst of pleasure, her hands shaking a little with excitement, Nikki dialed the local library and listened to a recording about its hours. She then tried a few more numbers and went back to her unpacking.

  As much as she wanted to get settled in the bedroom and kitchen so she felt really moved in, her feet drove her toward the dining room and her huge task there. She couldn’t stand all the boxes stacked around, so she cleared the room until only the furniture was left.

  At that point she began opening the needed boxes in the living room and carrying her things to the dining room. She hung pictures, positioned odds and ends, and each time stood back and smiled at her efforts. She was finally ready for the most important addition and was dragging it carefully from the living room when the front doorbell rang.

  Sure that the telephone man had forgotten something, she swung the door wide before realizing who stood before her.

  “Mother!” she cried with joy and threw her arms around an older version of herself. “I just tried to call you.”

  “Well, I’m not home,” Virginia Warburton told her with a satisfied smile. “I’m headed to see my daughter in Vermont.”

  “Oh, Mom.” Nikki could have cried but didn’t. “Is Tim with you?”

  “He’s here in town but not with me right now. I think he wanted to give us a little time alone.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Well,” her mother’s tone became firm. “I’m not here for fun. I’m here to help you move in.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Of course. Nearly all your friends from here have moved away, and I knew you’d be on your own.”

  “I won’t turn that offer down. Come and see what I’ve done.”

  Nikki led the way to the dining room and stood back.

  “Oh, Nikki,” her mother said softly. “This is wonderful. You told me you were going to set up your office in here, but I never imagined…”

  “I just have to set up my computer, and I’m ready to go.”

  Virginia could only stare. Nikki’s desk sat so that her back was to the main wall. To her left were windows and to her right was the door into the hall. The wall in front of her held the door back to the kitchen. Built-in shelves already sported books and writing awards. Nikki had had the covers of all her books framed. They now hung around the room, interspersed with cartoons and family photos. The effect was wonderful: a room not originally intended for anything but dining, but perfect nonetheless.

  Virginia took a slow look around, the memories coming back. The nostalgia within these walls was very dear. The dining room had always been the family’s favorite room. The huge bay windows that looked out over the acres of pines drew her close, and for a moment she stood quietly at the glass.

  “Such memories, Nikki. It’s no wonder you want to work right here.”

  “Remember the Christmas you broke your toe but still insisted on going with us to
get the tree?”

  Her mother chuckled. “Yes. I thought I’d die of cold before we found a tree we wanted.”

  “Dad was in a panic, sure that your exposed toe would be frostbitten, and we couldn’t quit laughing.”

  “He wasn’t too happy with us,” Virginia agreed, but she couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her. Dominic Brinks had been dead for more than ten years, but the memory of that day was still strong in their minds.

  “Well, now,” Virginia piped as she turned from the window. “I think we’d better get to work. Where do you want to begin?”

  “I think the upstairs. Are you and Tim going to stay here with me?”

  “If you have a place for us to sleep.”

  “In that case, we’d better get started on the bedrooms.”

  With that, the women were off. The house had been left clean, but the movers had tracked in a certain amount of debris, so they dusted, vacuumed, moved furniture—usually several times—hung pictures, made beds, filled closets, and washed windows. They made themselves stay in a room until it was completely in order. Two of the three upstairs bedrooms were finished, as were both bathrooms, before they allowed themselves to move downstairs to the living room and kitchen.

  Hours later, both thinking they could drop with exhaustion, they called it quits. They had no more collapsed on the sofa and love seat in the living room, when the front door opened.

  “Hello,” a cheerful male voice called, and Nikki summoned up just enough energy to meet her stepfather at the door.

  “Hello, Tim,” she said warmly as they hugged.

  “How’s my Nikki?” he asked, a tender light in his eyes. A widower with four children of his own, he still had room in his heart to adore his wife’s only child.

  “Tired and hungry, but so glad to be here.”

  Tim kissed her cheek a second time and reached for the bag he’d set down just inside the door.

  “How does dinner sound?”

  “Oh, Mom,” Nikki called to her. “Tim brought fried chicken.”

  “You are an angel,” Virginia declared as she came to join the fun. “We’re so tired and hungry we thought we might just go to bed.” She kissed his cheek and welcomed his hug.

  “Help has arrived,” he said kindly. “The kitchen or the dining room?”

  “We’ll let you decide,” Virginia said calmly, looking forward to her husband’s reaction. Tim’s response was all they could hope for. He proclaimed with delight that his own office could never compare to Nikki’s.

  They ate with much thanks and fellowship, and as Virginia had predicted, they made an early night of it. They rose early, however, and worked steadily for the next two days.

  Tim did handyman repairs, changing light bulbs and checking locks. He gave the furnace a good going-over and also did some work on the kitchen and bathroom sinks. After a huge list was compiled and purchased at the grocery store, the women continued with boxes of books, linens, and dozens of odds and ends.

  Nikki spent some time with her computer and fax machine, and by the time the Warburtons took their leave, Nikki was well and truly settled. She said goodbye to them but without a hint of sadness. Their visit had been a complete surprise, and she had enjoyed every moment, but it was time to return to her writing.

  Two weeks later, Nikki sat back in her chair and rubbed her throbbing temples. She had been writing nonstop for days. It was time to take a break. Late summer in Vermont was very beautiful, but Nikki was missing it. She had a deadline to meet on this manuscript, but right now she had to have a rest. As it was a warm day, she was already dressed in shorts. She saved her current work on the computer, went for the walking shoes in her bedroom closet, and headed out the front door, the key in her pocket.

  The house in which Nikki had grown up sat on a long stretch of road that sported only three homes. The road dead-ended into a beautiful meadow filled with maple trees and pines. That land belonged to the next house up the road. It was a huge white sprawling place with two stories and a large wraparound porch. The third house, another large structure, was out on the main street that led into town.

  As a child she had played in the valley with the other children who lived on the street, but now she didn’t know who owned the other homes. She began to walk toward the valley but wondered if someone might think her trespassing; one never knew these days. With that she started up the road, head bent against the wind, and forced her mind to empty itself of all but the Lord. She was thinking of His attributes, naming them one by one, when a small voice interrupted her reflection.

  “Hello.”

  Nikki pulled up in surprise. She was on the far side of the large white house, nearly halfway down the road, when she turned to find a small girl.

  “Hello,” Nikki said right back, a friendly smile on her face.

  “What’s your name?” the little person standing off the road asked, cutting right to the chase.

  “I’m Nikki. What’s your name?”

  “Petra. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  Nikki’s smile widened, knowing it would do no good to remind the child that she had initiated the conversation. Instead she said, “I think you’re very wise not to do that, but if your mom will let you, you can come and visit me. I live in the small house at the end of the road, beyond the picket fence.”

  Nikki watched her eyes shift down the road and back to her before saying goodbye. She could almost feel the child’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back; neither did the child speak again. Nikki walked swiftly all the way up the road and back. It wasn’t much of a workout, but it helped remove the webs from her mind and kinks from her neck. By the time she reached the big white house again, the child was gone, but Nikki thought about her as she went back to work, figuring she must have been about five or six, a little young for the books Nikki wrote, but still such a fun age.

  Back at her desk, Nikki shifted her mind back onto the screen in front of her and read the last line of type. With that she was immersed in the story again and didn’t take a break until hours after dark.

  “Hello,” the woman on the other end of the phone line offered tentatively, “I’m looking for Nikki Brinks.”

  “This is Nikki Brinks.”

  “Oh, Nikki, it’s Shelly Marks. Do you remember me?”

  “Of course I do, Mrs. Marks. How nice to hear from you.” Shelly Marks was the mother of an old friend of Nikki’s, one who had gone to high school with her.

  “Well, dear, I hope you’ll think so after I tell you why I called.”

  She sounded so worried that Nikki chuckled softly. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s such late notice, Nikki, and I haven’t seen you for years. I’m just so afraid you’ll feel I’m taking advantage.”

  “That’s nice of you, Mrs. Marks. I appreciate that, but if I can’t help, I’ll be the first to tell you.”

  “You’ll be completely honest?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Well, it’s like this. You may remember that we have a small pet fair and contest every year, and, well, it’s tied into the town’s annual Maple Days celebration. Our vet, Dr. Borden, always does the judging, but the poor man has just been kicked by a cow and has broken his leg.”

  “How painful. Is he going to be all right?”

  “Yes, but he’ll be laid up for several days, and he’s in a good deal of pain.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is the fair soon?” Nikki had had her nose to the grindstone and had not been reading the local paper.

  “This Saturday.”

  Today was Thursday, but Nikki didn’t have to look at her calendar to know she had nothing scheduled.

  “It’s such late notice.” Mrs. Marks was still apologizing.

  “As a matter of fact,” Nikki replied, “short notice is sometimes easier. What would you want me to do?”

  “It’s just for fun, Nikki,” she began to explain. “The children bring their pets—we always see quite a variety�
��and you need to judge and award the first-, second-, and third-place ribbons.”

  Nikki saw more than Mrs. Marks was saying. She didn’t have a pet when she was growing up, but there was a vague remembrance of this event. As arbiter, she would be expected to judge equally between dogs and goldfish, cats and pet turtles. It wasn’t impossible, just challenging. She did, however, have one question.

  “Why me, Mrs. Marks?”

  “Because many of the children love to read your books.” The older woman’s voice grew warm. “A few of the teachers told me they were ecstatic when they heard you’d moved back into town.”

  There were times when Nikki was still surprised at how well-known her work was becoming, and this was one of them.

  “Do you need to think about it, Nikki?” Mrs. Marks had misunderstood her silence. “I would understand.”

  “Not this time, I don’t. I’d be glad to help out.”

  “Wonderful.” The word was breathed with fervent relief. “The judging begins at one o’clock. Will that work for you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The remainder of the conversation covered where the competition would be held and who would be there to assist her. Nikki took some notes, thinking it sounded like fun. As soon as the ribbons were awarded, her duties would be over. Nikki hung up, still thinking it sounded like an adventure but also a little curious as to just what she’d gotten herself into.

  Pine Tree’s community center was a beautiful structure. Just five years old, it was a far cry from the small gymnasium they had used when Nikki was a child. A spiral of excitement filling her, Nikki climbed from her car and started toward the door. She walked down the hallway that led to the auditorium, already able to hear the sound of many voices and the occasional bark of a dog.

  She opened the front door, stepped inside, and was delighted to see she’d been wrong about the organization. Animals and children were everywhere, but with a few moments of observation, she could see that there was some order. It looked as if small pets—turtles, mice, rats, and such—were lined up along the left wall. In front of the stage were the cats, and to the right were the dogs. Nikki stood taking it all in until she saw Shelly Marks headed her way.