Fearless Hope: A Novel by Serena B. Miller

entertained. As an adult he had continued to do so—and gotten paid for it.
    His love for Ariela, and her love for him, had made the loneliness go away for a while. The day he met Ariela, he knew he had found his other half, the person who could fill all the empty spaces. With Marla—although he was grateful for her presence in his life—things were different.
    He wished he had the right to stop, park, and walk into thatbarn with that group of people. Had Marla known what he was thinking, she would have laughed and texted her friends about the latest funny “Logan story.” His fiancée seemed determined to present him to her friends as a rumpled, mildly attractive, absentminded writer. It had become a sort of shtick within her circle.
    He slowed down as he passed the people going in to church. Then he turned around and pulled over at a wide place in the road. Just close enough that he could watch, far enough away not to be obtrusive.
    In the distance, he saw a young woman with two children in tow. A little boy and girl. As she came closer, he saw a sadness in the woman’s face that caught at his heart. His writer’s mind wondered what tragedy might have happened to cause such sadness. There was no father within that small family group. Had he left her and the children? Had he died? Or was he simply at home ill? He felt a stab of empathy for the two children. There had been no father in his family group, either, when he and his mother had walked to church.
    It occurred to him that the heroine in his latest novel, a psychiatrist who specialized in sociopathic behavior, needed to be made more multidimensional. Perhaps he should give her a deceased husband and two small children. That would ramp up the tension when her unhinged client turned into a midnight stalker. He grabbed his smartphone and recorded the idea before it could slip his mind. Perhaps he would give his heroine that innocent-but-sad expression the Amish woman wore. She drew even closer and he saw that she was quite beautiful in spite of wearing no makeup. Perhaps he would give the psychiatrist the same appearance. Could she have a devoutly religious background? He definitely didn’t want any more reviews accusing him of writing “cardboard characters.”
    It was the first time he’d felt the tiniest spark of creativityin weeks, and it flickered out way too soon. His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his cell phone.
    “So what are you doing today?” Marla said. “Playing cow chip bingo like I saw on TV?”
    “Cow chip bingo?”
    “It was on a program called Amish Mafia ,” she said. “Have you seen it?”
    “I don’t have a TV here, Marla,” he said. “You know that.”
    “Sorry. I forgot. So, how are you doing over there in Amish land?”
    “Fine.”
    “You’re lying.”
    She knew him entirely too well. “You’re right.”
    “That’s what I was afraid of. Tell me what you’ve gotten accomplished so far.”
    Marla was a task-oriented person. He had discovered early on that if he didn’t have a task, she would assign him one.
    “I’ve pretty much finished putting the house together.”
    “Good for you!” The tone of her voice reminded him of a schoolteacher encouraging a kindergartner. “Have you done any writing?”
    “Honestly? I’ve not written a word since I got here. I’m giving Harry’s advice a shot for a while.”
    “I’m almost afraid to ask, but . . . how’s the drinking?”
    “I made you a promise, Marla, and I’m keeping it.”
    “Good boy!” Again with the encouraging teacher voice.
    He appreciated her encouragement, but he felt a flicker of resentment. He was not a child.
    “One of my friends asked me how you recharge your laptop and cell phone with no electricity? What should I tell her?”
    “I’m not using my computer yet, but when I do, I’ll charge it with my car battery.”
    She laughed. “I can just see you tromping outside in the rain some night when your laptop dies on