August 17th is a day I celebrate each year! It was such a HUGE day in my life, or start of my life with Rick Sikes.
Although we’d met and fallen in love in 1970, it wasn’t until 1985 that we were able to begin a life together. As Rick used to say, “Courtesy of Uncle Sam.” 🙂
On August 17, 1985, Rick stepped off a Greyhound bus and into our new life together. We’d waited a long fifteen years for that day.
I want to share a very short excerpt from “Home At Last,” as it says it better than anything else I can come up with.
Here’s a picture from that time and yes, it’s a real picture of us both.
Excerpt – Chapter 2 – Home At Last
The air brakes brought the lumbering bus to a stop and the door flew open. Luke stood and gathered his meager belongings, consisting of a cheap cardboard case with a change of underwear, one change of clothes, a comb, toothbrush and the shaving razor he’d been issued when he left prison. In his pocket, he carried his parole papers, which he’d glanced at often since leaving Kansas.
When he spotted Darlina at the entrance of bus station, he swallowed hard.
He maneuvered his lanky frame to the front of the bus and stepped off. He dropped his case and wrapped his arms tightly around her when she ran forward. They stood quietly, barely breathing.
His chest tightened when big tears welled up in her blue eyes. He hated to see her cry, even if they were tears of joy.
“Oh Luke. You’re finally home,” her voice quivered.
He cleared his throat. “It’s damned time too. Let’s get out of here. All of these people make me a little more than nervous.” Luke picked up his small case.
“Sorry, the air conditioner in the car doesn’t work. It’s damned hot,” she chattered nervously.
Luke nestled his free hand in hers and let her guide him to the maroon Chevy.
“Honey, it wouldn’t matter to me if you had to pick me up with a wagon and team of mules. God, it’s good to be back in Texas. All the way here, I kept thinking to myself, ‘Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore’.”
Standing beside the car, Luke threw his case into the backseat and pulled Darlina into his arms. He kissed her waiting lips and slid his hands slowly down her back, savoring the feel of her beneath his trembling hands.
Darlina let out a long sigh. “I’ve waited so long for you to hold me, baby. I thought today would never get here.”
Luke struggled to steady his voice. “Not nearly as long I have, sweetheart. Let’s go home.
***
And so they did.
To celebrate, I’ve lowered the price of “Home At Last” in the Kindle store to 99 cents for three days! If you haven’t grabbed a copy, this is a great time to do so!
And if you read it and are so inclined to, please leave a review so that other potential readers will see your thoughts about it!
It’s been a while since I’ve shared a Rick Sikes original story and this one always touched me. Of course he writes in parables, but I see the comparisons clearly. Enjoy!
I can’t tell you why men write and I have
been thinking pretty hard on it these past few hours. It could be a man finds
something inside of him so damn beautiful that he wants to get it down on paper
before it slips away. I guess it could be that a man stumbles onto a thought so
damned earth-shaking he figures just about everybody should get a chance to
hear it. Who knows? Not me. I ain’t no writer. I’m a cowboy…
But, here I am writing!
It all started last night. You see, when
the whistling West Texas wind drives chariots of tumbleweed across this
God-forsaken plain, a man finds his body creeping closer to the fire as surely
as he finds his mind seeking the warmer memories of his past… and last night
was black ice, raw and bitter… and as surely as my fire drew me to its warmth,
one of my memories drew my soul… until… like a Roman Candle exploding in huge
darkness, I saw that memory in a new light… and I was wanting to write it down…
so I could share it… earth-shaking or not…
So, here I am, sitting on my saddle, with
a pencil in my ol’ paw and an empty stomach, doing two things I ain’t never
done before…
Missing breakfast and writing a story!
But, sometimes a thought can feed what a
meal can’t. Depends on a man’s hunger I reckon.
I know the thoughts in the Good Book used
to feed my mama, and I can remember a teacher I had once, years ago. They fed
me so much poetry that my heart was filled to bursting because I couldn’t let
it out for fear that my pals would laugh me to shame.
Funny, ain’t it… how one thought leads on
to another? And that brings me to the memory I discovered last night.
I grew into manhood on a rocky Texas
ranch. Pa died early. Ma still lives on the place. The soil ain’t good for
nothing but cactus and windstorms on that place and it weren’t no different
when I was growing up. But, we had some times on the old place worth
remembering, and I find it’s true the older I get, a few things happened there a
boy had to grow into understanding. My story’s about one of those things.
There was an old billy goat on our place. He was wild and wicked, crafty and cantankerous and smelly and scrawny. He was also lonely. His smell would gag a buzzard and he was so scraggly looking that the horned-toads paraded their ugliness past him like it was finery. Pa used to say, when we’d catch a glimpse of that ol’ goat, he was so poorly looking that he’d force a train to take a dirt road. I always smiled and nodded.
Pa died in the winter of my fourteenth
year. Later the same year, April I think it was, I came up on a sight which I
didn’t give much thought to ‘til last night. I was with our hired hand and his
boy, Junior Bascomb.
Junior was my best and only friend growing
up. He was two years older than me and I always thought of him as a kind of god.
I guess he must’ve known the answer to every growing-up question I ever wanted
to ask.
Anyway, we rode up on one of the prettiest roses a man could ever want to see. Right next to that rose, laid out and dry, was the bones of that ol’ billy goat. I can remember Junior Bascomb saying, “Well, now, ain’t that the purdy’est rose you ever seen?” And his Pa answering, “It surely is.” I can remember how we all noticed the skeleton of that ol’ goat and sort of laughed when Junior’s Pa said the old billy would’ve eaten it sure.
Junior wanted to pick the rose for a
little gal he was seeing in town, but his Pa told him to leave it where it
grew. When Junior asked why, his Pa said, “Well, son, I think it’s kinda nice
for old Billy, onery cuss he was, to have such a purdy flower growing there by
his grave…”
And we rode on…
And I’ve been riding on ever since.
I’ll be fifty come June.
But, somewhere between then and now, I’ve come to look on that long ago day with a different view… and I guess my story is a little more than the story of an old billy goat and his rose. Just as a man sees things a tad different than a boy… because in my man’s soul I can almost see that old, lonely billy goat wandering through his empty days. That lonely little rose was solitary but splendid; nourished by a tiny stream and hemmed in by a few weeds.
I can see the old billy goat coming up to that little rose, and I can see him wanting to eat it, but he didn’t because he felt something just in looking at it that he hadn’t felt in years.
He felt younger, richer and less lonely.
So, he grazed all around the area and he
fell in love with the awesome intensity only an old creature can feel. The
sight of the rose made him spry and the scent of the rose put him in a romantic
mood. One day, he became so jealous of the weeds growing around his rose that
he tore them from the ground and gobbled them down in a frenzy that he hadn’t
felt in years. They tasted terrible in his mouth, but seeing them gone made him
feel pure in his soul. He had never been so happy. At night, the warm breeze
blew the fragrance of his rose softly into his nostrils and he slept well.
The summer passed well. Every day began
with the sight of his lovely, dew-kissed rose, and every day ended with perfume
and dreams.
But as summer ended and the rose began to
fade, the old goat began to eat less and less and worry more and more. When the
frost came, chilling and killing his love, it killed something in the old goat
too. One by one, the petals dropped from the rose into the dust and the old
goat followed soon after.
Every year, around spring the rose returned to bloom beautifully, beside the bleached bones of the old billy goat. Eventually, the sands shifted, covering both Billy and his rose…
But what is covered is not always
forgotten,
And
what truly matters finds a way to bloom again.
Even in the heart of an old cowboy.
For more about the life, times and music of Rick Sikes:
Happy Valentine’s Day tomorrow everyone! If you have a partner, I hope you take time to let them know how much you love and appreciate them. One event in life can take them, or you, away.
Image via Pixabay
My Valentine Story starts on February 13, 1989.
Rick and I were preparing for open heart surgery on this day. There were so many emotions, so many unanswered questions and so much fear of what was to come next.
Would he survive the surgery? Could it be that we waited so long to be together to have it all end too soon? How would I survive if he didn’t?
Here are a couple short excerpts from “Home At Last.”
Excerpt #1:
“Once the girls were tucked into bed, Luke and Darlina lay on their own bed snuggling close.
“Darlina,” Luke began.
Now, regretting her earlier
insistence that he tell her everything, she put her fingers on his lips. “Sh.
Let’s not talk anymore tonight. We need to rest.”
“But, I have so much to tell you.”
“Then tell me tomorrow. I just want
to lie here beside you and pretend everything is like it was a month ago before
all of this started.”
Luke gathered her closer. “I love
you, sweetheart.”
A stray tear escaped and she buried
her face in the covers. “I love you too, Luke Stone. Never forget that.”
Long after Luke’s breathing
steadied into an easy rhythm, Darlina lay awake with thousands of thoughts
racing through her head.
How was she going to hold all of this together and be everything for everyone who needed her? She couldn’t allow emotions to get the best of her. She had to keep up a happy positive front for Luke and for the children.
But, what if he didn’t survive the
surgery? A gasp caught in her throat. She must not have these thoughts. Surely,
he would be okay and they would have many more years together.
She looked over at him in the darkness and branded to memory the familiar silhouette of his face.”
Excerpt #2:
“Darlina stood quietly by as nurses helped him into a hospital gown, inserted an IV, then shaved his left leg and chest.
Her eyes misted as she watched him joke, and make light of the situation. Every time he looked at her, she forced a smile, but it was almost more than she could do.
She watched the clock and as each
minute ticked away, her heart pounded so loud she wondered if others could hear
it. She wanted to yank that clock off the wall and stop the hands that measured
her time with Luke.
Finally, the nurses finished and
left the two of them alone.
“Come here.” Luke patted the bed.
Darlina climbed up and stretched
out beside him. He stroked her hair and she struggled to hold back the fountain
of tears that clogged her throat.
Words were unnecessary. They’d all
been said. They held each other tightly, dreading the sound of squeaky
footsteps.
All too soon, the curtain parted
and the anesthesiologist strode in. Darlina got off the bed, wiped her eyes and
watched while he put medicine into the IV that would put Luke to sleep.
She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead and whispered. “I’ll see you soon, my love.””
The good news was that Rick (Luke) did survive the heart surgery and lived another twenty years. Of course, I wouldn’t want to spoil the book for everyone who hasn’t read it. 🙂
In honor of that special day in 1989, I have reduced the price of the “Home At Last” Kindle version starting tomorrow. I hope you’ll pick up a copy if you haven’t already.
I attended an Author’s Marketing Conference back in the summer and one of the workshops I participated in really piqued my interest.
Story Rocket is a website created specifically to provide a place for TV and movie producers, agents, scouts, and directors to go looking for new material.
I don’t know about you, but I can visualize my stories on the big screen, whether it be a movie or TV show. So, I jumped at the chance to get on this bandwagon. The cost to join is $120 per year, but because I attended the conference, I got a substantial discount and paid only $75. To me, that was a huge saving.
Anyway, I have three of my books up so far on Story Rocket.
I would love it if you would take a look at one or all of them and give me some feedback. Have I chosen a powerful logline? Does the synopsis read well and tell enough of the story? What about the actors and actresses I chose to portray Luke Stone and Darlina Flowers?
This is all new to me, but I am excited that I am getting a good amount of views in the short time the projects have been up.
Please take a look when you have a minute and see what you think.
If you have a book or series of books you think would make a great movie or TV series, join me on Story Rocket and let’s see what happens. 🙂 And, if you do put any up, please let me know so I can go take a look.
Or is it? Are you like me and feel that you have to work like a Trojan workhorse every day, day in and day out?
But what happens when we do? I can only speak from my own personal experience.
Creativity all but comes to a screeching halt
I find it hard to shut my brain off at night for sleep
I feel exhausted all the time
I get grouchy when I am not creating
I get tunnel vision
Here’s the truth of it. Most of us are ambitious and anxious to write great books and get them into the hands of readers. But, no matter how much we do, there is always more to do: more writing, more marketing, more admin. A writer’s work is never done.
I have one novel already written and two more in the series vaguely outlined and waiting. I fear I have failed miserably, as an author, this year. Yes, I put out several short stories and maintained my blog, but have not given much more than a glance toward my next full-length book. There’s a couple of reasons for that. I have been in this state of limbo since last year, waiting with bated breath to see if a publisher will take the first book of The White Rune Series. Guess what? I’m still waiting.
So, why couldn’t I force myself to work on the next one while I’m waiting? That would be the smart thing to do. I guess the truthful answer is I need to feel like it is worthwhile. Yes, I know. Everything we are inspired to do is worthwhile in some way or another. Maybe the better word for it is validation.
In telling Rick’s and my stories, I had passion. I was driven to get the story down and out into the hands of readers. I need to feel that burning passion again.
I’m open to any advice. My sister tells me that if you don’t write a story, you lose it. I don’t want to lose them because they are good stories. Such a dilemma.
Then I have to ask myself this question. If the publisher that currently has the manuscript passes on it, what then?
Yes, I know I can self-publish, but I don’t have another $2,000 to $3,000 to invest with little hope of ever recouping. Since I suck at cover design and formatting, I’d have to pay for both of those services plus editing. If anyone ever said writing and publishing books is easy, they told a big lie.
So, the bottom line to all of this is that I took a break from working on the novels. Is that good? I suppose only time will tell.
How about you? Do you take breaks? Do you have books waiting to be published? Please tell me I’m not in this boat alone.
Everyone who leaves a comment will be entered into a drawing for my latest collection of short stories, “Two Shorts and a Snort.” I’m giving away three eBooks.
This book consists of two short stories and one poem from award-winning author, Jan Sikes, in response to a writing challenge from the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB.
Obsessed:
How far will one man go to satisfy an obsession? The price could cost him his life.
Maggie:
It is possible to pray up a baby? Frank and Mary Pyburn are convinced that is what they’ve done.
Friends Instead of Lovers:
Sometimes it’s better to remain friends instead of giving in to desires and crossing a line.
I purposefully left the “Hemingway” post up an extra few days and didn’t post again on Wednesday. I want to thank everyone who visited the blog, left comments, liked and shared.
I am going to give away a copy of the book and album to someone who leaves a comment on this post today. And, if you missed it the first time around, here is an Amazon Purchase Link: Hemingway
REFLECTION
August is such a big month for me each year. It is not only the month Rick and I both had birthdays, but also the month he returned home from prison after fifteen years AND the month we got married.
So, I want to share a couple of short excerpts from “Home At Last.”
CHAPTER 2:
The air brakes brought the lumbering bus to a stop and the door flew open. Luke stood and gathered his meager belongings, consisting of a cheap cardboard case with a change of underwear, one change of clothes, a comb, toothbrush and shaving razor he’d been issued when he left prison. In his pocket, he carried his parole papers, which he’d glanced at often since leaving Kansas.
When he spotted Darlina at the entrance of bus station, he swallowed hard.
He maneuvered his lanky frame to the front of the bus and stepped off. He dropped his case and wrapped his arms tightly around her when she ran forward. They stood quietly, barely breathing.
His chest tightened when he saw big tears welling up in her blue eyes. He hated to see her cry, even if they were tears of joy.
“Oh Luke. You’re finally home,” her voice quivered.
CHAPTER 3:
Lily and Nicole bounded out of the front door before the car came to a complete stop.
The minute Luke opened the car door, they both flew at him. “Daddy, Daddy!” Nicole yelled.
“Let me get out of the car, girls, then I can give you both a big hug.”
Darlina watched, misty-eyed, as the girls grabbed Luke’s hands and pulled him toward the house. Luke glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Come on, Mama. Let’s join the party.”
She smiled and caught up with them.
The entire family had gathered to welcome Luke home and Mom Stone had prepared a feast including homemade chocolate pie.
Tears and laughter filled the air with joyous celebration.
When Mom Stone hugged her son, she sobbed into his shoulder. “Bubba, I didn’t think you’d ever get home.”
“Don’t cry, Mom. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere else.” He reached for Darlina who wrapped her arms around them both.
Luke’s eyes misted when he hugged his only brother, which in turn brought a lump to Darlina’s throat. Because of cancer, Bobby no longer had any vocal chords and after suffering a stroke, he walked with a cane and dragged his left leg.
Voice hoarse with emotion, Luke hugged Bobby a second time. “It’s damn sure good to be home, stud.”
CHAPTER 4
In the chaos of everyone talking and laughing, Darlina linked her arm through Luke’s. “We did it, baby. We finally did it. Are you happy?”
Luke gave her a positively sinful grin that made her heart lurch. “Darlin’, I’ll show you how much a bit later. Bet I can get you out of that beautiful dress in nothin’ flat.”
Darlina laughed. “Promises promises”
It was a very big day in the lives of Luke and Darlina Stone. One that would never be forgotten.
A union created in heaven and sealed on earth.
***
To everyone who has read and reviewed, “Home At Last,” THANK YOU!!
August has always been a BIG month for me. Well, at least it has been since 1985.
Rick Sikes, aka Luke Stone, left Leavenworth prison on August 15, 1985, and arrived on a Greyhound bus in Brownwood, Texas on August 17th. So, of course, it was a big day for Luke and Darlina after being separated by walls and bars for fifteen years. Even now, when I think about it, my heart races. Here is an excerpt from Home At Last.
During the ride back to Coleman, Luke never let go of Darlina’s hand. He savored the countryside that he’d known as home for all but the last miserable fifteen years of his life. Prickly pear cactus grew wild in the pastures and along the roadway amongst the cedar and mesquite trees. A lot had changed in his absence, and yet so much remained the same.
The moment they stepped through the door of the small apartment Darlina had rented for them, Luke drew her into the circle of his arms and kissed her, savoring the uninhibited way she responded. He ached for her in ways that only a man who’d been deprived for years could ache. The need and raw hunger overtook everything else. In minutes, the two lovers lay on the living room floor with remnants of clothing scattered about. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t made it to the bed. Nothing mattered except the moment. Luke’s insatiable appetite grew more with each release. They devoured each other lost in a span of time and space where the entire Universe stopped spinning just for them. Finally, out of breath and spent, Luke sat up with his back against the sofa and gathered Darlina close beside him. “You have no idea how many nights I dreamed of this and how those dreams kept me going when there didn’t seem to be any other reason.” She snuggled into the crook of his arm. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. I looked for some way to replace you after you left, but I never found it.”
Then just 8 short days later, Luke and Darlina stood at the altar and repeated marriage vows.
Excerpt:
Luke placed his arm through the crook of Darlina’s and together they walked toward their future. The pastor of the Northside Community Baptist Church waited to officially pronounce them man and wife.
The ceremony passed in a blur. All Darlina could focus on was that she would finally and forevermore be Mrs. Luke Stone. Her voice wavered and her hands shook as she read the poem she’d written for the ceremony. “Today I stand here next to you, to pledge my love faithful and true. At your side, I’ll always be, from now throughout eternity. And so, in sight of God and man, I promise as I take your hand, to love you deep and strong and true and with you be, though storms may brew. Never may our love grow cold even though we’ll both grow old. So, today, they’ll say I belong to you, although that fact we already knew.”
Luke chose to speak from the heart. “I’ve loved you for always and promise to love, protect and adore you for always and forever. You have my pledge to be faithful and true, and you can rest assured I’ll never ever lie to you. You and these two girls are my family now and I intend to make sure you never regret this union. You are my everything. You’re all I need.”
***
And so today, I choose to honor that anniversary from thirty-two years ago. Did Luke and Darlina have any idea what lay ahead? Of course not. But, it wouldn’t have changed anything if they had.
I hope you found the excerpts of interest and that you’ll pick up the book and help me celebrate this anniversary, and many more!
I am often asked the question, “When did you first start writing?”
To the best of my memory, I was around eight when I wrote my first string of words that made sense. I had an alcoholic uncle whom I adored. He lived with us off and on throughout my growing up years and occasionally he’d twist off, so Mom would make him move out. During one of those episodes, I was worried about him, so I wrote a gospel song about Uncle Luke finding Jesus.
But, before that, I can remember loving anything written. I loved the Dick and Jane books in first grade. I loved fairy tales. I loved reading and devoured books of all kinds. In fifth grade, I checked out the Grimm’s Book of Fairy Tales so many times they had to make a new library card.
Ah, the smell of libraries. I still love them. I never outgrew my love for reading. It was my entertainment, education, and adventure. And it still is!
Fast forward many years where I found myself in a serious songwriting vibe. My late husband, Rick, was a singer/songwriter and several years after we’d married, he pulled his vintage Martin D35 out from under the bed and returned to writing and playing the music he loved.
I wanted desperately to join him. I loved singing harmony with him, but I wanted to play. We had a second-hand/antique store, and some guy stopped in one day and sold Rick an old banjo. He took the instrument apart and put a guitar neck on it to create a Gitjo. And it was on that instrument I learned my first chords.
When he saw I was dead serious about learning, he bought me a 3/4 size Applause guitar for my birthday. I was fifty years old. So, NEVER let anyone tell you are too old to learn something new!
And it took off from there. I played on that little guitar every day and we wrote songs every day. When I’d get home from my day job, I’d hurry to put supper on the table so that we could toss around ideas, chords, melodies, and lyrics. It was an exciting part of life for me. We booked gigs and I got to play and sing on stage with him. We built a recording studio so that we could record our songs, and we published our own music.
But, now those are simply fading memories with pictures and CDs to prove it all happened. And I moved on after his death, in another direction of writing.
Compelled to tell our story (his and mine) I began to write books. And, I decided that I would continue to promote our music by releasing a music CD with each book that matched the time period of the story.
The first book, Flowers and Stone, was a HUGE learning curve for me. I am often tempted to pull it down and rework it and I may some day.
Set in 1970, this is the beginning of an epic love story with a musical twist as Luke Stone and Darlina Flowers (our fictitious names) travel the roads of Texas with Luke’s band. It is real and raw with a devastating conclusion.
The second book in the series, The Convict and the Rose, is not only the story of Luke’s determination to survive many years behind prison bars, but Darlina’s own struggle to survive in a prison of her own where the bars were invisible. It is inspiring with a lesson in turning a negative situation into a positive one. This book garnered my first writing competition award – First Place in the Biographical Fiction Category from the Texas Association of Authors!
Ah, the reunion. Finally, Luke and Darlina earn a chance to build the life they’ve always dreamed of. But, the struggles are real and the price of love is high. Home At Last won two First-Place writing awards.
Then, all too soon, it’s over. Twenty-five years seemed like nothing. But, this is not a book about death. Instead, it is a book about living and wringing the most out of every moment – ‘Til Death Do Us Part.
I never stopped learning as I moved through this writing journey. I always strived to make each book better than the one before, while continuing to tell this true story. Thank God for my older sister, Linda Broday, who helped guide me along the way. I took classes. I learned about POV and head-hopping, sentence structure, show-don’t-tell, and passive voice vs. active voice. And guess what! I’m still learning and still striving to be better.
I released one more book, a beautiful expression of poetry and art. It is a combination of poems from both Rick and myself and pieces of his amazing artwork accompany them. Discovery is available in hardback, paperback, and eBook.
Is my writing journey over now that I’ve told this story? Oh goodness, NO! I’m almost done with my first fiction novel, which I’ve entitled When Two Worlds Collide. It has been so much fun to create and live vicariously through these fictitious characters. I’m fully invested in them and their story as it unfolds in my imagination.
I also write for two magazines. Buddy Magazine is the Original Texas Music Magazine for which I interview artists, review CDs and feature innovative, creative, and talented musicians. The Oklahoma Farm and Ranch Magazine has a music section and I have the honor and privilege of filling it each month.
Writing and Music 
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