The Miscellaneous Works of Jo March

[Jo March]

This is a topic for me to post about my various works of English. I cannot promise that anything will be put on here regularly, or at any particular point in time, so, whenever I write something I think worthy to be put on here, I will post it.

First post: a not-very-well-written mystery
The Missing Ball Dresses
By Kate Hershey
One cold, cloudy afternoon in November 1896, just before Thanksgiving, four fifteen-year-olds, Charlotte Andresen, Ann McGuilligan, Isaac Green, and Peter Akers, walked down Main Street of De Smet, South Dakota. Charlotte was the train station manager’s daughter, and Ann’s best friend; she had thick black hair and brown eyes. Ann was the newspaper editor’s daughter; she had fiery red hair that came from her Scottish background, and green eyes. Isaac was the bank manger’s son and Peter’s best friend; he had brown hair and black eyes. Peter was the Norwegian hotel owner’s son; he had blond hair and blue eyes. The four friends solved mysteries together. They were just going into the general store to warm up and get peppermint sticks for Thanksgiving, when a loud scream came from the dressmaker’s shop. The children started.
“Oh!” cried Ann and Charlotte.
“Christopher Columbus!” yelled Peter.
“Yipes!” cried Isaac. They started down the street to the small shop. When they got there, they found the front window display, which had contained gloves, bonnets, and hats for sale, smashed, and sobbing coming from the back of the store. Peter tried the door. It was unlocked. They crept inside, finding the inside of the store a very large mess; the empty glass display cases shattered, the also empty, normally locked cash box upended on the floor, etcetera. Miss Florence Martin, the dressmaker, came from the back room dabbing at her large, blue eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. The pretty young woman was still dressed in her cloak and outside bonnet.
“Oh, children, I am so glad you are here!” said Miss Martin.
“Would you like me to go get the sheriff?” asked Isaac, jumping up from the floor, where he was picking up the larger pieces of glass, since he could not find a broom.
“That would be wonderful, Isaac.” Said Miss Martin, perking up, “Thank you.”
Isaac raced out the door. While he was gone, the girls found a chair that was in the front room, sat the dressmaker down, sent Peter to fetch a bucket of water from the town well, and calmed Miss Martin down enough to get the story.
“Miss Martin, why are y’ here today? I’n’t today when y’re closed? asked Ann.
“I have been working on ball dresses for the mayor’s wife and a few other wealthy women in the area, for the Thanksgiving ball,” Miss Martin began, “Mrs. Rogers is a stickler for punctuation and perfection, as are her friends. The dresses are to be picked up this tomorrow morning, first thing. But, when I arrived this morning to do some last minute things to them, I found the window smashed. When I went inside, I found the displays smashed, and then I went to the back room and found the dresses gone and the racks uprooted.”
“That’s when you screamed.” Inserted Charlotte, looking around the small sewing room. The room was rather small, and quite neat, with the sewing machine on a wall, across from a large, beautiful, mahogany wardrobe, that she assumed contained sewing jobs. Another wall was covered in racks containing neat spools of ribbon, lace, thread etc., drawers of every different size containing neat piles of buttons, silk rosettes, straw braids for hats, etc., and large bolts of fabric and shelves with neat piles boxes, hatboxes and cloth bags for the deliveries. The fourth wall was a table in of itself next to the wardrobe. Charlotte saw all this quickly, her gaze finally falling on the wardrobe. Its lock had been distorted and warped; the wood had been torn into splinters around the doorknob. She caught the eyes of Peter and Ann, and glanced towards the wardrobe. They looked at it and nodded to each other.
“Yes. It startled me.” Said Miss Martin, starting to cry again, having glanced at the calendar on the wall. “The ladies will be here tomorrow, and I will be run out of business because their dresses were not ready in time.” The young lady was pressing her handkerchief to her face now, and sobbing in big, loud sobs. Just then, Isaac came in with the sheriff. The sheriff was a young, handsome man, and the gossips of the town said that he was secretly courting Miss Martin; the biggest gossips said they were even engaged.
“Florence! Uh…Miss Martin. When did this happen?” the sheriff had rushed to Miss Martin’s side, her having stood up, and took her hands, and then dropping them quickly, remembering that there were children in the room. The aforesaid children had quickly gone into a corner when the sheriff came in ahead of Isaac, and were whispering to each other,
“Wha’ too’ s’ long, Isaac?” asked Ann.
“When I came in and told Sheriff Thaner that Miss Martin needed him,” Isaac began, “that the shop had been broken into, he jumped right up and went out the door, forgetting to lock the door, get his coat and hat. I called him back, and he put his things on, then grabbed a packet of his name cards. I got a glimpse of one and it said, at the top, ‘”Love”’ in fancy calligraphy, surrounded by flowers and two birds on a branch of mistletoe. His name was at the bottom; Matthew Philip Thaner.” The children snickered.
“Children, could you leave us alone for a moment?” asked Sheriff Thaner.
“Of course, Miss Martin.” Said Ann. “Let’s go, Charlotte, Peter, and Isaac.”
Isaac continued, “When he finally got his things on, we started back. However, every three feet he would stop and tell me to go on ahead and start cleaning the shop. I would, and then he would shout for me to wait for him to catch up, he would catch up, and then the whole process began all over again. We went on this way until we were about six doors down from the shop. Then he remembered that he had left something at the jail. We ran back, and then he thought he had misplaced his keys, and we went back over every square inch of Main Street. He finally found them in his coat pocket. We went back to the jail, again, and he found his box. We started to the shop, for the third time, when he realized that his hat was still on his desk. This time he handed me the box and ran all the way back to the jail. While he was gone, I peeked in the box. There were fancy chocolates in there. From Chicago.”
Luke snickered.
“Isaac! Did you-- You didn’t!!!” exclaimed the girls together.
“Well-- no. I was tempted to, though.”
“Good.” Sighed the girls.
“Anyway, we finally got to the door of the shop and he retreated to the other side of the street half a dozen times, mumbling to himself. I could catch bits and pieces of it: ‘”Good day, Miss Martin. No, no, no. Hello, Florence. No, no, no, the children will be there. Oh, will I ever decide on something to say!”’
The children snickered again, the boys rolling on the floor and the girls saying they thought it was romantic.
“Now I think tha- boys! Are you listening?” said Charlotte, looking sternly at the two boys still rolling on floor, and then tossing her thick braid over her shoulder.
“Ye-yes. Wh-what were you saying?” laughed the boys, getting up from the floor, still laughing hard.
“Now, I think that we should go look in the front room. Something seemed strange in there.” Charlotte went into the front room, and over to the window, followed by Ann, Peter and Isaac. She slowly turned around looking around the room.
“Aha! I knew there was something strange!” said Charlotte, pointing at the empty display window, and then, turned and pointed at the cases.
“Aye! I see what y’ mean, Charlotte!” cried Ann.
“What? What is it?” shouted the boys.
“Look at the glass on the floor. What do you notice about it?” asked Martha.
“Ohhh. I see.” Said Peter.
“I still don’t understand.” Said Isaac.
“See, there isn’t anything in the glass.” Said Martha. “If the shop had been burgled like Miss Martin said, there would be things in the glass, accessories and hats, and they would be ruined. But, if it was staged, like what it looks like, then it makes sense that there isn’t anything in the glass. And look at the money-box. There isn’t any thing, much less any money in there.”
“Now I see it. But, maybe the things that were in the cases were stolen. Well, now, maybe that doesn't make sense.”
They all laughed.
“Let’s go ask if we might look in the wardrobe.” Said Charlotte.
“Aye. ‘tis a good, good idea. But, I still dinna ken wha’ do to when w’ fin’ the culprit. Besides what does the wardrobe hold that i’ so i’portant” Said Ann.
“What wardrobe?” asked Isaac.
“There is a big mahogany wardrobe in the back room. The lock on it was destroyed.” Explained Peter.
They went to the closed door that led to the back room, and knocked.
“Come in!” said Sheriff Thaner.
The sheriff and Miss Martin were sitting in chairs, holding hands and talking. When the children came in, they abruptly stopped talking and dropped their hands.
“We’re sorry, Miss Martin, Sheriff Thaner. Could we look in the wardrobe? It will only take a minute.” asked Charlotte.
“Why, of cour- Matt? Oh, uh, Sheriff Thaner, what is the matter?” For the sheriff had stood up and gone quite pale when Charlotte had asked to see the wardrobe.
“Oh, nothing.” answered the sheriff.
“Yes, children, of course you may.” Said Miss Martin.
“I had better leave now. I have some things to do. Good day, Miss Martin, ladies, boys.”
And with that parting remark, the sheriff kissed Miss Martin’s hand, tipped his hat to the girls, shook hands with the boys, and went out through the back door. While Ann and Charlotte talked to Miss Martin, Peter motioned to Isaac.
“Did you see how Sheriff Thaner went pale when we asked to see the wardrobe?” asked Peter, “That seemed terribly strange, don’t you think?”
“That is a very good question. But, did you see how abrupt the sheriff’s exit was? That was quite strange, as well. Let’s look in the wardrobe.” Replied Isaac.
They went to the wardrobe and looked at the doors. Isaac gently tried to open the door, but when gently pulling the doorknob didn’t open up the wardrobe, he just jerked the door open and the boys peeked inside.
“Psst! Isaac! Luke!” hissed Ann.
“AAHH! Ann, what are you doing? You almost made me jump out of my skin!!” whispered Peter.
Isaac did so, and when they all saw what was in the wardrobe, they gasped. The wardrobe was filled with the things that had been in the window and displays!
“Christopher Columbus!”
“Shhhh! Not s’ loud, Peter!” said Isaac and Ann. “That solves a bit o’ the mystery, but how di’ these get in ‘ere?” said Ann
“Why did Sheriff Thaner get so pale when we asked to see the wardrobe?” said Isaac.
“Maybe w’ startled ‘im.” Said Ann.
“Yes, that might make sense, but we knocked on the door.” Countered Peter.
“But, when w’ knocked, he migh’ a’ been startled. Isaac, here’s t’ besom you ‘r lookin’ fer earlier.”
“Peter, translate please.” Said Isaac desperately to Peter, for Peter’s mother had grown up in Scotland, therefore he could understand Ann.
“She said, ‘But, when we knocked, he might have been startled. And Isaac, here is the broom that you were looking for earlier.’ It is not that hard to understand, Isaac.”
“I think Isaac shou’ ‘etch the sheriff. We ha’ a nee’ for him.” Said Ann, delicately wiping her fingers.
“I agree. Better hurry, Isaac. It sounds like Miss Martin is finishing the conversation.” Concurred Peter.
“I’ll go now. I’ll be back soon; with the sheriff!” said Isaac, buttoning his coat and pulling on his hat. He ran out the door and down the street.
“Isaac, where are you going?” Charlotte asked.
“Just out. I’ll be back in a moment.” Isaac answered.
“Be back soon! There will be tea waiting when you return.” Said Miss Martin.
“Miss Martin, i’ there anythin’ ‘e can do? Ta ‘elp?” Ann asked.
“No, thank¬- well, maybe there is. Could you three start cleaning the front room? That would be wonderful. Oh, and Peter, could you try and find something in the shed out back to put over that window? A board, maybe?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The three chorused.
Ann picked up the largest pieces of glass, while Charlotte swept the small pieces into a large pile. Peter found a large board and nailed it over the broken window. Miss Martin started a fire in the stove in a corner. The little shop finally seemed like it’s normal self; apart from the broken display cases.
“Girls, why don’t we do a bit of embroidery while we wait for Isaac to return? Peter, would you mind fetching the large basket that is on the fold-down table in the sewing room? There are a few things that I need.” Miss Martin said.
“Yes, of course, Miss Martin.”
Peter ran to the back room, and soon returned with the large basket. Miss Martin opened the basket and took out jars, and bowls that appeared to contain food. She pulled out five different embroidery hoops that had backs of unfinished gloves in them. She then sent Peter back into the back room, this time for the crate of cooking utensils. Ann and Charlotte were taking the cloths off of the bowls and jars, when Isaac and the sheriff arrived at the door.
“Isaac, what are we doing here? We have already been here.” Sheriff Thaner said.
“ We need some clarification about the shop.” Replied Isaac, as they stepped into the shop.
“Isaac! You’re back! With the sheriff, too! We are having tea soon. Hello Sheriff Thaner.” Said Charlotte.
“Isaac! You're a bonny sight fer sair eyes! I was about to burst wi’ ‘unger!” Ann exclaimed.
“I beg your pardon?” said Isaac.
“She said, ‘Isaac! You are a sight for sore eyes! I was about to burst with hunger!’” said Sheriff Thaner.
“Aye! Isaac, see, ‘t isn’t hard ‘t understand.” Confronted Ann.
“I think I need to find a Scottish tutor.” Laughed Isaac. “But we can’t eat yet, remember?”
“Aye.”
Miss Martin walked into the room with a bucket of water.
“Matt! Uh- Sheriff Thaner. What are you doing here?” Miss Martin exclaimed.
“I don’t know. Isaac came running into the jail, handed me my coat and hat, and dragged me out of the jail.”
“Sheriff, you are here for a very important reason.” Said Peter.
Ann and Charlotte walked in from the back room.
“We are all here so I can start. Sheriff, how did you know where the back door is? And, how did you know that Miss Martin kept the back door unlocked?” Isaac asked.
“Well, Isaac, I…I… I guess I have to ask Miss Martin something first. Florence Martin, will you do the honor of marrying me?” said the sheriff, bending his knee and holding out a pearl ring.
“Oh! Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you!” cried Miss Martin, accepting the ring and putting it on her finger. They hugged and the children clapped.
“Now I will answer your question, Isaac.” Began Sheriff Thaner, “I have been courting Miss Martin for about two years. She would close the shop at noon, and we would go walking. When she closed the shop for the day, I would walk her home the long way, and we would eat supper. We decided that it would be better to keep the courtship secret for a while. While I would wait for her in back, I discovered that she kept the back door unlocked. I asked her why, and she said that she did that because she was prone to leave her keys at the boarding house. I did this,” he said, gesturing at the cases, window and wardrobe. “To have an excuse to ask Miss Martin to marry me. I asked her if I could do this. For a surprise.” He continued. “She put the things in the wardrobe and trashed the wardrobe lock. However, I didn’t expect you four to enter the picture. But it sounds like it all worked out. Florence, I have new cases and a new window at the jail. I will put them in soon.”
Ann, Charlotte, Peter, and Isaac stared at the sheriff.
“Och! A fair bonny story tha’ i’!” cried Ann.
“Matt, please translate for those of us who cannot understand Scottish.’ Said Miss Martin.
Sheriff Thaner laughed. “Florence, she said, ‘Oh! A quite pretty story that is!’” he translated.
“Well, it looks like that is cleared up.” Said Isaac.
“Wait a minute, Isaac,” said Charlotte. “The dresses. Sheriff, where are the dresses?”
“They are in a box at the jail.” He answered.
“Good! Oh, and when is the wedding, you two?”
Miss Martin laughed. “On Thanksgiving, dear.”
They all laughed and went to have their tea.

[Jo March]

This is another assignment for my English class. One of my favorites so far.

Blessed

April 19, 1999
*~*~*~*
Elizabeth Thorsten, a twenty-five-year-old teaching intern at Columbine High School, almost ran down the hallway at the school. She was hurrying to the first class she was helping in, Mrs. Hampton’s Life Skills. When she got to the room, Mrs. Hampton was there, preparing for that day’s class, which was to be making biscuits.
Mrs. Hampton was in her early sixties, and grandmotherly, short and rather plump, with a happy face and round glasses. She still wore clothes from the 1950’s, and drove a Volkswagen Bug from the 1960’s. Elizabeth thought Mrs. Hampton was a little strange, but she liked her. Mrs. Hampton always greeted Elizabeth with a hug, grin, and a “Good morning, God bless you, dear!”
Standing by the door, Elizabeth was greeted by the students.
“Good morning, Miss Thorsten!” said Cassie Bernall.
“Good morning, Cassie.” replied Elizabeth, smiling.
At nine o’clock, Mrs. Hampton called the class to order, “Good morning, young men and women! I hope you all had a good weekend. Today, we are going to be working on biscuits. Now…”
Mrs. Hampton began her lecture. Elizabeth’s mind began to wander to her parents.
Maybe I should call them, tell them where I am and what I am doing. Lord, what should I do? she thought.
“Now, class, try it for yourselves! Miss Thorsten and I will be right here if you need any help. Here are your aprons and hair-nets. Now, to your stations!” said Mrs. Hampton. She walked around for a little while, then walked over to where Elizabeth was sitting and sat down next to her.
“What is the matter, Elizabeth?” asked Mrs. Hampton.
“I am trying to decide if I want to call my parents. I haven’t talked to them for about three years. We get on each other’s nerves every time we talk, which is probably why we don’t talk,” Elizabeth explained. “You see, I grew up in a secular family, but when I went to college, I became a Christian, which made my family upset. My sisters stopped trying to talk to me eighteen months ago. I don’t know what to do.” The tears that had been gathering in Elizabeth’s eyes spilled over and she began to sob. Mrs. Hampton pulled her into a grandmotherly hug and Elizabeth slowly stopped sobbing. Mrs. Hampton pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped Elizabeth’s tears.
“I understand, Elizabeth. I experienced these things myself when I was your age. You must be gentle with your family until they accept you again,” she comforted. “Child, you will realize someday that these experiences have strengthened you. Now,” Mrs. Hampton said, switching from gentle grandmother to strict teacher. “Go wash your face.”
Elizabeth hurried to the restroom and washed her face, then went back to the classroom. To her surprise, the students were gathering their things.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Thorsten!” said Rachel Scott.
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth.
“Good! Miss Thorsten, I want you to know that I pray for you every day.”
“Thank you, Rachel. I appreciate that.”
*~*~*~*
The next day, at the end of the Life Skills class, as Elizabeth stood saying good-bye to the students, on an impulse, she gave both Cassie and Rachel a quick hug. The morning went quickly, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch. As she was going through the lunch line, she looked out the window and noticed two boys in black trench coats holding what looked like sticks. Not thinking anything of it, she ate her lunch, then left to go for a walk around the school. As she went around the building, she heard gunshots coming from around the corner, so she ran back to the teacher’s room, grabbed her things, and rushed outside through a back entrance. As she walked to the front of the school, she saw Rachel lying on the ground with blood pooling under her. The boys from earlier were just going inside the school, shooting anyone who tried to stop them. Her vision blurred, then went black. She woke up to shouts of “Wait! Don’t jump!” “Okay, now! Jump!” She sat up just in time to see Patrick Ireland fall from a window into the arms of SWAT members.
A few hours later, while helping at a triage, Elizabeth saw Kacey Ruesegger and Anne Marie Hochhalter bloody and unconscious. Her eyes clouded with tears and she stopped notating the names of the injured.
How can someone do this? Elizabeth thought.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, turned, and looked up into Mrs. Hampton’s tear-filled eyes. Elizabeth, tears running down her cheeks, said, “Oh, Mrs. Hampton! What is wrong in this world that people can do this to these young people? These kids will be in pain for such a long time! Why does God allow this?”
“We just have to believe that He knows what is best. Sometimes it is hard to understand why He lets these things happen,” Mrs. Hampton said, putting an arm around Elizabeth. “Now, we need to get back to work. They need our help and prayers right now.”
Elizabeth took the handkerchief Mrs. Hampton gave her and wiped her tears, then picked her clipboard back up and started writing again.
*~*~*~*
At both Rachel’s and Cassie’s funerals, Elizabeth wrote on their coffins:
“I have appreciated you so much. It will be hard to continue helping here at Columbine without your smiling face every day. Thank you for being such an inspiration to me. I will miss you terribly. Miss Thorsten.”
*~*~*~*
Twenty years later, Elizabeth and her husband sat together at the graduation ceremony at Columbine High School, watching their daughter receive her diploma. Filled with joy, she looked around and saw many Columbine survivors sitting in the audience. Her parents sat next to her husband, and her sisters and their families sat next to her, all of them pillars in their church.
Yes, Elizabeth thought. Mrs. Hampton was right. Now, God has blessed me in ways I could never have imagined. Thank God for Columbine High School.

[Jo March]

This is a poem I wrote for an English assignment.

Early Sunday Morning

Early Sunday morning, the loud buzz
of Japanese aircraft awakened some, alerted others.

Early Sunday morning, the dropping of bombs
killed some, injured others, sank ships.

Early Sunday morning, a child’s sobs break
the silent stillness of bombed out Pearl Harbor.

Early Sunday morning, there is a breath of hope,
compassion, and love; even as death is in the air.

Hope, that our boys will end this war soon.
Hope, that few men will die.

Compassion, for the families of the fallen.
Compassion, for the injured and fallen who have no families

Love, for the ones who died to keep our country free.
Love, for the ones who were injured for this great country.

Early Monday morning, a mother awakens and
remembers that her son is dead, but she has faith in the Lord.

Early Monday morning, a sister awakens and remembers that her brother has not been found, but she has faith in the Lord.

Early Monday morning, a wife awakens and remembers that her husband has been dangerously injured, but she has faith in the
Lord.

Early Monday morning, a girl awakens and remembers that
her uncle has been injured, yet she has faith in the Lord.

So, remember those who fell and those who were injured,
on that fateful day,
the day that will live in infamy,
December 7, 1941.

This is probably the best poem I will ever write. I am NOT a very good poet(contrary to my English teacher's and friend's comments).

[GJFH]

Excellent work Kate! I love your stories, particularly the first one. The Missing Ball Dresses. The way you wrote the character's accents was clever, and probably took a bit of research. Am I right?
I really hope I'm not sounding harsh, because it isn't my intention, even if you're writing a short story, you might want to consider holding off describing every individual character within the first scene. It can be a little confusing. I know that you want to develop the characters in the minds of your readers, it's important to leave clues and find openings for further detail. I hope that makes sense.
I truly did enjoy the story, finding there is a lack of historical fiction that evolves around the mid west. Your characters, the teens were endearing, and the setting easily imagined. Are you planning on writing more with these characters?

I do like the second story, Blessed. The emotion, and internal struggle...a tribute to the tragedy. What prompted you to write it if I may ask?

You are in fact a good writer, far better with punctuation and narration than I was a few years ago. Please, continue to write!

[Jo March]

Thanks! I really appreciate that! About "The Missing Ball Dresses", I don't know. I might some time in the future, but not at the moment.

About "Blessed", my mom and brother and sister were part of the columbine community, though not at the school, and one of my siblings' friends from youth group was one of the kids killed. This really opened my eyes, even though I knew a lot about Columbine before, doing the research was heartbreaking. The movie that came out last Friday called "I Am Not Ashamed" is about one of the girls killed, Rachel Scott. We went to see it on Saturday night, and all I can say is that I have never cried that much at a movie. EXCELLENTLY DONE!! AND, Sadie and Korie Robertson were in it! This an AWESOME movie!! To anyone else who is reading this, go SEE IT!! You too, GJ.

[Kathy0]

WOW These are amazing! I love them!

[Jo March]

Thanks!! Glad you liked it!

[Ameraka]

You're a good writer. I like that you write about history.
That's sad that your siblings lost their friend at Columbine.

I noticed a common error: in dialogue, there's a comma, not a period, before the end quotation marks, and the dialogue tag begins with a lower case letter. For instance:

“Let’s go ask if we might look in the wardrobe.” Said Charlotte.

would be “Let’s go ask if we might look in the wardrobe,” said Charlotte.

[Jo March]

Yes, my English teacher graded that. I forgot to change it before I posted it on here. Thanks for telling me, though!

[Jo March]

Little bit of fan-fic. Hopefully I'll actually finish this lol

Chapter 1
NEWS
“Connie! Jeff! Connniee! Jeffff!”
I set my book down and got up from the couch as quickly as I could, being eight months pregnant.
“What is it, Jules, Buck? What happened?” I asked, beginning to feel worry creep into my mind.
“Where’s Jeff? We want to tell you at the same time!” she answered. “JEFF!” Buck called up the stairs.
We heard a thump up upstairs and then Jeff came running down the stairs.
“What’s the matter?” he asked concernedly.
Jules didn’t answer, but instead held out her left hand. On it sparkled a beautiful diamond ring. Set in silver, the diamond was surrounded by tiny pearls, with a ruby on each side. The silver was delicately carved into a twisting vine, much like my own. Jeff and I looked at each other, then at Jules and Buck. She had a bigger smile than when she had been baptized; and Buck’s blue eyes were sparkling and dancing.
“We came to ask for your blessin’, Connie, Jeff,” Buck said, starting to look a little worried.
“Well—” Jeff began. I coughed.
“We need to talk about it. We’ll be back soon,” I said, not giving Jeff a chance to say anything that would raise false hope for either Buck or Jules. Jeff and I walked into the kitchen and sat down.
“Wow. This was expected, but not quite this soon. Don’t you think we should make then wait a year?” I said, picking up my knitting.
“Hmm. I don’t know. They are both Christians, we have seen that they both love each other, they are both nineteen. And they are both very responsible I think we need to pray about it,” Jeff answered, taking my knitting and setting it on the table, then pulled me and my chair over next to his. Holding each other’s hands, we prayed for wisdom and guidance. After waiting for a few minutes, we went back into the living room. What we saw there gave us our answer. Jules and Buck were both kneeling at the couch, praying. On the coffee table, the Bible was open. Jeff and I sat down and waited for the young couple to finish.
Thanks, God. That’s what we needed. I thought. My mind began to wander. I was twenty-five again, and had just gotten back from my first date in ten years. I was in the same spot that Jules was, and I was praying for God’s wisdom with this “dating thing”. I was having doubts, and yet I felt that this is what God wanted. I was crying hard, when I suddenly felt peace. The same peace was surrounding me now as I watched my little sister silently praying, and tears began spilling out of my eyes. Oh Lord. Please soften Dad’s heart. He needs you more than he knows. Help him realize it, Lord. I prayed earnestly. Dad had not been too keen on Jules becoming a Christian, and now he wouldn’t be very happy that she is getting married.
“Are you alright, honey?” Jeff whispered.
But before I could answer, Jules and Buck got up and sat down on the couch. Jules grabbed Buck’s hand and squeezed it.
“Buck, Jules, we have decided that we do give you our blessing,” I began, then as Jules and Buck jumped up and down and shouted, I said, “But, on two conditions.”
They glanced at each other. I could see what they silently said to each other—Uh-oh.
“First, you need to get Eugene and Katrina’s blessing.”
They nodded.
“Second, you have to reenact the proposal. If my sister’s getting married, I want to see how she got asked,” I said with a grin.
“Oh, thank you, Connie! You too, Jeff. That means so much to me—to both of us,” Jules declared, with tears in her eyes.
Buck nodded. I think he was too overcome to speak. As we watched, he got down on one knee.
“Jules Neumar Kendall, will you consent to becomin’ my wife?” He asked gently.
She looked down at him in surprise.
“What? I— I mean, yes. I will absolutely marry you,” she choked, tears flowing down her face.
Buck stood up and kissed her. Then they turned around and faced us. Jeff was grinning, and I was crying and laughing at the same time. I grabbed Jules in a hug and the baby kicked. Jeff wouldn’t stop shaking Buck’s hand or patting him on the back.
“We better get on over to Eugene and Katrina’s,” Buck commented.
Jules nodded, then picked up her purse.
“Jules, you might want to change,” I told the couple. “It’s getting kind of cold. Buck, I think you’ll fit into some of Jeff’s clothes.” They had been at a dance, and were dressed in evening clothes, not exactly suitable for the frigid January weather.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she replied, hurrying up the stairs.
“Hurry, Jule!” Buck shouted after her. “I want to get to Eugene and Katrina’s before it gets too late.”
“Buck, you need to change, too,” Jeff told him. “Come with me. You need something other than that tux.”
Jeff and Buck went upstairs into the master bedroom. I could hear Jules in her bedroom, opening and closing dresser drawers and the closet door.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone was at the door with their coats on.
“Come on, I’ll drive,” Jeff offered.
“Thanks, Jeff,” Buck answered.
We went out to the car; Buck opened the passenger door and helped me in, while Jeff helped Jules in on the other side. The men got in and Jeff pulled out of the driveway.

[PennyBassett]

Aw! I- wow. So wonderful. Thank you. This is beautiful! I'm excited for the next chapter! Oh please write the next chapter!

[Jo March]

Oh thanks!! That makes me so happy!

[Rosie Willowwater]

All of these stories are so wonderfully written, Jo! Great job.

[Jo March]

Thank you!! Your puppy is adorable too!

[Jo March]

Guys. I finally finished the second chapter!!!!! Can I get a drum roll please! *executes drum roll*

Chapter 2
ELIZABETH
Ding-dong! The doorbell rang, and I jumped out of bed as quietly as possible. But when I threw the covers back, they knocked my books over. Oh drat.
“Elizabeth?” Mother Katrina called. “Back in bed right now, young lady!”
“Oh Mother! Please mayn’t I stay up and see who it is?”
“Well—” I held my breath as I heard her walk to the door and open it. There was a murmur of voices and then I heard, “WHAT?! EUGENE, GET DOWN HERE!!!”
I heard Eugene come running down the hallway in his floppy slippers. I grabbed my robe and slid my feet into my slippers and followed him down the stairs. I heard voices in the entryway and, knowing that Katrina would bring whoever it was to the living room, I went there. As soon as I curled up in my favorite chair, everyone came in. The guests were Aunt Connie, Uncle Jeff, my older brother Buck, and Jules. All of them had traces of tears with big smiles, and Eugene and Katrina had shock written on their faces. I jumped up.
“What happened?” I asked, entirely confused.
“Elizabeth,” Buck told me with a grin. “Jules and I are engaged.”
I stared. “Y— I— What? You— you mean, to be married?”
“Yes,” Jules answered. “We are. Will you be our flower girl?”
“I’d love to!” I said and ran to give them both a hug.
Mother laughed. “Alright young lady, now you need to get back in bed.”
“Aww, Mother.”
Eugene gave me “the look”.
“Yes, sir. Good night, Buck, Jules, Uncle Jeff, Aunt Connie. Good night Dad, Mother,” I said, going around the room giving them each a hug in order.
Aunt Connie gave me a little squeeze. “Good night, dear.”
Uncle Jeff winked at me. “Have a good sleep, button.”
Buck and Jules both kissed me on the head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Mother wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “I love you.”
Dad pulled me close. “Sleep tight, sugar.”
I walked upstairs, the conversation starting up again in a comforting murmur. I was tired. By the time I laid down and pulled the covers up, I was exhausted. I fell asleep without having time to think much about the recent events.

I know, it's short. Hopefully Chapter 3 will be a bit longer. Until next time, this is Jo March, signing off.

[PennyBassett]

Aw, I just love this so much. So sweet!

[Jo March]

Oh thanks! I am working on the third chapter. Hopefully it won't be too long until I post it

[GJFH]

This is super cute. I can't wait to see where it goes.

[Jo March]

Aw thanks!

[Kungfunaomi]

I like it! I just haven't said anything because "I like it" sounds so dull but I like it! So. Take that as a complement, gosh.