Meet Me Monday: Ambrose Carmichael

Thought I might give this a try.... I saw something similar on another author's page. He would highlight one of his characters each week and give his readers a chance to meet/question/interact with the featured character.... not sure how well this will work, but, we'll give it a try. Feel free to comment or question.....

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Meet Ambrose Carmichael, husband to Charlotte and father of Emily and Esther. He is a prominent businessman and land owner who becomes a guilt-driven stationhouse master on the Underground Railroad during the Civil War.

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Ambrose and his wife slid into the basement, covering the distance from the steps to the basement door in less than five paces. They threw the bolt back and cracked the door open just in time to see two stooped shadows making their way across the exposed land from the protective tree line. The rustling of bare feet hardly made enough sound to reach their ears. Such were the practiced feet of the escaping.

The Carmichael’s met their charges at the door, with outstretched blankets. The two shadows slipped inside. They shivered and hobbled toward the inviting fire, collapsing against the dirt floor, breathing deep the warm air that promised a night without exposure, a night without the sounds of fear rising to meet them.

The sounds of less-thunderous footsteps came rushing down into the basement. Woken by the running pace of their parents, the Carmichael girls fulfilled their portion of the routine. They gathered what they could first get their hands on in the kitchen and brought down with them, water, bread, cheese—enough to fill empty bellies for the night. Anything else would have to wait until the morning. The first order was to make everyone comfortable for the night and to make sure no one else knew of the Carmichael’s secret guests.

Only moments had passed when a heavy knock penetrated the darkness of the house, penetrated the silence in the basement. The hushed whispers became strangled gasps. Their muted movements became pantomime motions, pretended actions without accusing sound.

Again the knocking pierced. Ambrose Carmichael, who’d been kneeling to pass more blankets to their huddled guests, stood upright. His back stiffened as the thunderous knocking rumbled down the basement steps a third time.

The hour was too late for callers.

The knock was too loud for a friend’s hand.

With deliberate, rehearsed movements, Ambrose Carmichael turned to the basement steps. He turned to the path that would lead him to the intrusive knocking. His jaw was set. But, as he moved forward, a tense twitching pulsed through his back teeth. For all his practiced movements and rehearsed speeches, he couldn’t coax his jaw to remain calm—the only indicator that the practiced words he spoke might be less than the truth, the only miniscule thing that might give him away.

As he forced his feet to carry him to the door, he breathed a silent prayer in gratitude for the darkness—perhaps his throbbing jaw would go unnoticed.

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered

Remember and Return.....

I've settled my heart in the memory of your sigh, the subtle caress of your lips. I've eased my mind's worry in the warmth of your smile, the soft embrace of your kiss. But, the time of our parting has been of a length, that I scarce can recall your words' sound. And, I fear in the depths of this consuming absence, your passions withheld, your spirit's now bound. I have not the strength to fight such a foe, as wild and untamed as the sea. I have not the will to stand at your door, and demand your decision to be, As one or the other, the sea or my love, I know I would fail to win thee. My only request, when you've ventured enough, Remember! And, return unto me.

A-Z Reflections, year 4....

A-Z blogging challenge for 2014 has come and gone, seemingly without my realizing it. And, though I fell behind once or twice toward the end, I finished this year's challenge right on time. Really, I can't believe it's already over. I feel like I just finished my post for letter A... Year 4, for this blogger, was a far cry from the tortured state of despondency that was most of Year 3 -- I'll not mention the irony of this year's focus on death being easier to blog about than last year's foray into supernatural creatures, we'll leave that for my therapy sessions *ahem* As always, A-Z brought with it, not only 26 days of unbridled and far-reaching knowledge (disguised as entertaining and thought-provoking blog-posts), but a chance to connect with new faces while reconnecting with familiar faces--who had perhaps drifted away--from A-Z's past. I am always amazed by the ingenuity and inspiration that comes from lumping a couple thousand folk

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

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