A
Summer
in
Oakville
Lisa J. Lickel and
Shellie Neumeier
Black Lyon
Publishing, LLC
A SUMMER IN OAKVILLE
Copyright © 2011 by
LISA J. LICKEL
and SHELLIE NEUMEIER
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way by any means without
the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews
Please note that if
you have purchased this book without a cover or
in any way marked as
an advance reading copy, you have purchased
a stolen item, and
neither the author nor the publisher has been
compensated for their
work.
Our books may be
ordered through your local bookstore or by
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publisher:
www.BlackLyonPublishing.com
Black Lyon
Publishing, LLC
PO Box 567
Baker City, OR 97814
This is a work of
fiction. All of the characters, names, events,
organizations and
conversations in this novel are either the products
of the author’s vivid
imagination or are used in a fictitious way for the
purposes of this
story.
ISBN-10: 1-934912-39-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-934912-39-3
Library of Congress
Control Number: 2011935872
Tessa’s
Story
Psalm 84:3 “Even the
sparrow finds a home and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her
young at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. ”
Chapter One
Contessa Marie Hasmer Murphy closed her eyes and inhaled the
scents of her summer kingdom. First hay cutting—sweet and fragrant alfalfa from
Janssen’s across the road—cress, and mint that she had just walked on. A
cardinal’s peculiar trilling keen and artesian water bubbling from the spring a
yard in front of her rock throne seemed magnified in the leafy glen. Tessa
wiggled against her backrest, the channeled bark of the century oak a solid
comfort behind her.
Whiny mosquito! Tessa scrunched her brows and batted the
insect from her ear. She sighed and sat up. Where’s a good slave with a palm
fan when you need one?
Who was she trying to kid? At age forty-eight all she’d been
her whole life was a slave to her family, to Oakville. And unappreciated went
her efforts to keep the family together. First, Robin. Married and moved so far
away. Having grandbabies Tessa couldn’t hop in the Land Rover to visit. Skype
was just not the same. Phil. Good riddance. He hadn’t thanked her for anything
in the past decade anyway. Lindsay … her baby girl coming home after earning
her master’s degree. But not home to mom. Home to grandma.
Tessa leaned over and plucked a small white lady slipper.
Everything seemed to bloom earlier each spring. Even though she knew the
flower, a member of the orchid family, had no fragrance,
she brought it to her nose, always hoping something might
have changed.
Something shimmied the leaves. A muffled step? Tessa stayed
still, hoping to see a doe and maybe a fawn. When a large human hand thrust
aside the leaves of her willow curtain, she stiffened. Her husband Phil had
been gone three months and likely wasn’t coming back. Her father was too weak
to walk this far from the house.
“This is private property,” she said.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” a man’s voice called. He entered her
domain despite her warning. Tessa glanced around for a weapon, a stick,
something. Crime was rare in rural Oakville, Wisconsin, but that didn’t mean it
was non-existent.
Hoping he was a hiker wandering off the nearby popular Ice
Age hiking trail that meandered through this glacier-gouged part of the state,
she asked, “Can I help you? Are you lost?”
The stranger, a young man perhaps her daughter’s age,
straightened. “No, ma’am. I believe this is the Hasmer farm.”
Tessa raised a regal brow. “The house is a quarter-mile
east. Do you have an appointment?” As if her father was in shape to see anyone,
anyway. “Are you looking for someone?” My daughter,
maybe? Lindsay hadn’t mentioned a beau. Such a handsome
fella too, with lovely wavy hair and showing buff under his off-white polo.
They’d certainly make a cute couple. Already tan, must work outdoors. Huh—or
played a lot of golf. Like her husband.
“I’m just out for a walk. Sorry to disturb you.”
He didn’t look in the least like he was sorry as he scanned
her special hideout. Hideout? A grown woman needed a place to hide? Tessa went
on the defensive and rose from the comfy rock where
she spent so many hours reading and dreaming and watching
nature. “I’m Tessa Hasmer Murphy, and this is my father’s farm.” She stood in
front of him and folded her arms. “Private property.”
The young man’s knowing little smile seemed to indicate
introductions hadn’t been necessary. She changed her mind from her first
impression. Hopefully he wasn’t here to see Lindsay. She
tilted her head to look up at him. Did he … his deeply
grooved mouth sent her back a couple decades, to college, and … but no. Why
bring up old dead memories now?
“Sorry again. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He turned and
left the way he’d come before she could make her lips ask for his name.
Tessa slowly turned to survey her secret place. The ambiance
had been ruined. No birds called. Janssen had started spreading manure on his
field.
Still clutching the lady slipper, Tessa climbed out, ready
to go back to her empty house in town. She walked across a field that hadn’t
been worked in ten years and was as tangled as her lonesome life.
About the author:
Lisa Lickel is a Wisconsin writer who lives with her husband in a hundred and sixty-year-old house built by a Great Lakes ship captain. Surrounded by books and dragons, she writes inspiring fiction. Her novels include mystery and romance, all with a twist of grace. She has penned short stories and radio theater, is an avid book reviewer and reader, writing mentor, freelance editor, and blogger. She loves to encourage new authors and is the editor of Creative Wisconsin magazine. Find her at LisaLickel.com.
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