Novel Journey Critiques ~ Week 3 ~ Original submission

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Original Submission:

Chapter 1

Emily. Emily Perkins.

The name still sounded strange to her, but Phyllis Graves knew she would have to get used to it. She’d chosen the name a week ago. Just six days, really. Three days after she decided to run.

What would Emily think of me now? She wished her old high school pal and college roommate was around now. Emily and Phyllis had been inseparable—until Skip.

Seated in Sufficient Grounds, the town of Templeton’s coffee bar, Phyllis cradled a mug of untouched chocolate mint mocha. The warmth penetrated her frozen fingers, but could not touch the ice surrounding her heart.

She put on her perky persona and practiced her greeting – again. Hi! I’m Emily Perkins. You must be Ms. Miles. Thank you for meeting me today.

It had to be perfect. No one could know her real name – least of all a real estate agent. She could not risk this agent, Bev Miles, remembering anything significant about her. Because of Skip.

The thought of Skip finding her now caused a shiver. Not now, not after she had finally broken free. She swirled the coffee stirrer in her mug. We can’t risk that.

We. Yes, she had to protect “Jerry,” too. At six it had been fairly easy to convince Thomas how much fun it would be to use his middle name. She did not think she could be successful changing his name entirely.

“What’s your full name?” she had innocently asked her son just four days ago.

“Thomas Jericho Graves.” His chin stuck out, punctuating the “Graves” with authority.

“That’s right. You know, sometimes, when I was a little girl, I would pretend my middle name was my first name – just for fun. Have you ever wanted to do that?”

“No!” He scrunched up his face as if getting sick, and she stifled a laugh. “Jericho, ick.”

“Well, how about ‘Jerry,’ then?”

“Yeah!” Briefly his face took on a child’s normal carefree look, but then the shadow in his eyes returned. “But it’s just pretend, right?”

She had regretted the ruse, but how could she explain to a five-year-old that she was afraid his father would kill her? He had already seen too much.

“Yes, just pretend,” Phyllis said softly to no one, as she sat alone in the coffee shop in Templeton. “Just pretend.”

Thomas’ middle name came from the Bible story about Joshua and the Battle of Jericho. Skip, of course, had had a fit. But it was one of the rare times in her marriage of then three years when she’d held her ground. She’d paid for it months later when her body was healed from the birth and her follow-up appointments with her doctor were over. In the four years since then she had only stood up to him one other time. I’m not going to think about that.

The story of Jericho had amazed her then—and inspired her still. Conquering a fortified city by simply marching around it and blowing a horn? What a powerful example of what God can do through faith—and obedience.

Obedience. That’s rich. If she had been obedient to God’s will herself, she would not be in this pickle now. But maybe Thomas/Jerry would learn from Phyllis/Emily’s mistakes.

Phyllis looked up when the jingle bells hung over the coffee shop door jangled. An attractive, self-assured professional woman – everything Phyllis longed to be, but knew she never would be – walked in, looking around.

Here we go, Emily. Make it real.

“Ms. Miles?” she called as she stood at her table, her left hand raised slightly in greeting.

The woman turned, made eye contact, and strode purposefully to the table.

“Please, it’s Bev – and it’s ‘Mrs.’ You must be Emily Perkins.”

Phyllis felt an immediate attraction to the woman, who was smiling and sticking out her hand. She took a deep breath and plunged.

“Yes, that’s me.” Phyllis grasped the agent’s hand. “Thanks for meeting me today, Mrs. Miles.”

“Ooo! Warm hands. And it’s Bev.”

Emily relaxed and smiled her first smile. “Yes, all right, Bev it is, then.”

“Great! Let me just get something warm to drink—I’m frosted—and then we can start. You need anything?”

Emily pointed to her mug and shook her head, then sat down as Bev called out her order to the clerk behind the counter.

“Dana? Could you make me one of those wonderful caramel things I like? You know, that frappa-, cappa-, nappacino thingy.”

Bev, her eyes sparkling, turned back to Emily as she sat. “I’m in here almost everyday, you’d think I could remember. But it’s all just coffee to me.”

But she popped back up like a bobber on a fishing line a fish was nibbling on. “Oh, Dana, hon?—Emily, please excuse me. Sorry—Dana, hon, could you sprinkle a little cinnamon in that? Thanks! Just wave when it’s ready.”

Then Bev did sit down and look Emily right in the eye. “I read that cinnamon in your coffee is good for your cholesterol. So, Ms. Perkins, may I assume you’re moving to the Templeton area?”

“I am, and just Emily, please.”

“Alrighty then, Emily. Tell me a little about yourself, what you do, what you’re looking for in a house. That kind of thing.” Bev sat, attentive, with the most attractive jade green pen Emily had ever seen poised over her notebook.

Emily took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m a nurse and I’ll be working at Templeton Hospital. In the burn unit.”

“Is there a Mr. Perkins?”

Emily looked slightly to the left, then caught herself. “No. Just me and my son, Tho-, Jerry. Mr. Perkins, well, he’s...”

Bev raised her hands as if to say it was not her business, but Emily could tell a question had been raised in the woman’s mind. I’ve got to be more careful. She hoped this agent would not pursue the point. Emily was not up to looking for another realtor, and Nancy had highly recommended this one.