Shannon here: Women’s Fiction author, Carol McClain shares how she met her husband. Comment or answer the question at the end of the post to enter the drawing for a copy of her latest release, Waters of Separation. Deadline: Oct 24th, 11:59 pm central time. Here’s Carol:
The Wrong Way to the Right One by Carol McClain:
Do not try any of the actions I write about here at home. I am what you would call an expert at doing things wrong.
Fortunately, God knows how to make things right.
For thirty years, I lived in a teeny village in the frozen reaches of eastern New York State. My church resembled the community—diminutive.
This itsy-bitsy church sported no chance for romance for a born-again divorced woman (pre-Christian divorced with Biblically-based reasons). So I did what any turn-of-the-century heroine would do. I went online.
Even there, the bounty was meager. Until I met Neil.
We chatted, and he told me he was a United Methodist minister. I did my research. I bought Saturday’s paper, thumbed through the six pages to the religion section, checked the names, and there he was. Minister of not one, not two, but three churches (the combined size made my little chapel appear like a basilica.)
We agreed to meet for dinner. And here’s the part of my tale I advise you not to follow. He asked if I would like him to pick me up. Of course, the answer is no. You never let a strange man you’ve never met come to your home and drive you away.
Naturally, I said sure. In my blonde-headed thinking, he was a minister. If you couldn’t trust a minister, then who could you trust? (Yes, I heard about the disgraced ones—still I said yes).
It’d been ages since I dated anyone. I had no idea what Neil looked like since he never managed to get a picture posted, and I was afraid he would be homely. If that were the case, I figured I could duck if a friend passed us in the restaurant or pretend I was wiping my whole face and hide behind a napkin.
Clad in my prettiest dress with my purse slung over my shoulder, I paced my living room waiting for Neil to arrive. I was ready too early—further proving my geekiness. I could do nothing but wander across the carpet. Seeing as I had already cleaned my house from top to bottom in preparation of meeting him on the doorstep, I had no random straightening-up to do.
It was then I noticed the spot on the carpet.
A stain? What would he think?
I grabbed the spot remover, sprayed, got on my knees, with my purse still slung over my shoulder, and I scrubbed and scrubbed and…
Yes, you guessed it. Neil chose that moment to arrive.
I dashed to the back of the house while he waited for me to answer the door. The thought of being over-eager nagged me. Fears he’d be obscenely ugly plagued me. Halitosis? I grabbed a breath mint and squared my shoulders and answered the door.
And on my doorstep stood a handsome man. Tall, a little chubby, gorgeous gray hair and beard, warm, brown eyes that made you think of a little boy needing a hug.
Yes. I believe I fell in love that night.
Not necessarily at first sight. At the restaurant, we ate. We talked. We had the world in common.
At the end of the evening, I did the next thing you should never do on a first date with a stranger. I invited him in to chat because the restaurant did have to close for the evening and our life had only just begun.
One year, almost to the day, we married.
Others say weird.
In truth, McClain’s wacky and wonderful.
As a youth, she believed herself an odd-ball, craved being like others. She even practiced writing in cliches because her classmates did, and if they thought the phrases were cool, they had to be.
Fortunately, that phase passed, and she now celebrates her own diversity. She plays bassoon, creates stained glass, enjoys high ropes, loves to run and, of course, she writes.
For thirty years she attempted to teach teenagers the joys of the English language. Judging from the prevalence of confusion with their, they’re and there–not to mention your and you’re and the rest, she hasn’t succeeded much. She’s now on a quest to make magic with her own words.
About the book – Waters of Separation:
Africa’s secrets resurrect the despair physician assistant Anna Haas buried in America. Her pregnancy and the discovery of boys bound by slavery in the cacao sector of the Côte d’Ivoire revive her childhood guilt. Her mother’s suicide claimed the lives of the two small sisters Anna had vowed to protect.
Her failure to save them was unforgiveable.
It will not happen with these boys.
Her interference prompts a corrupt government to threaten the thriving mission and the lives of Anna and her friends. Her action also threatens her marriage.
However, doing nothing will destroy her.
The story weaves from past to present and across two continents as Anna fights for love, faith and redemption.
Question for readers: Answer this question (you can figure it out in this blog) for a chance to win a copy of Waters of Separation. What country exports the largest quantity of cocoa beans?
Come back Oct 19th for Jennifer Slattery!