Free An Unholy Mission by Judith Campbell

busied himself in the kitchen, Olympia reached for Miss Winslow’s diary. She kept it beside her chair, and when she had time, she picked it up and read a few pages. It was her personal window on the history of the house she now called home and the life of the woman spirit with whom she shared it, Leanna Faith Winslow, Mayflower descendant and persistent busybody.
     
    November 24, 1861
    The waiting is unbearable! Because this is my first attempt, I truly have no idea how long it will take before I learn whether or not my story has been accepted for publication. I fill my days with making ready for the winter, tending to my growing son, (he stood without assistance today!) and when the rare moment presents itself, working on another story. Jonathan is an early riser, but he is in bed by seven in the evening. So unless I have visitors, which in truth I rarely do, my time is my own to use as I wish. This would not be so if I were a wife.
     I do confess that on more than one occasion, I wrote with such intensity and for such a length of time I saw the sky go pale outside my eastern window. And I do also confess I have paid a very dear price for such self-indulgence on the following day.
    When it is not too cold or wet outside, I visit with my women friends. We sip tea and marvel at our children, but the nights are lonely. Then I cannot help but think of Jared and wonder how he fares. But I have closed that door, and it does not benefit me to think of ever opening it.
    More anon, LFW

 
     
     
    Eight
     
    Olympia got to the hospital early enough on Monday morning to dash into the hospital cafeteria for a quick cup of coffee before going up to her unit. As luck would have it, Luther Stuart had the same idea. She acknowledged his nod of greeting and come-hither wave and carried her double cappuccino with whipped cream and cinnamon over to his table. This was a bonus, an unexpected opportunity, beyond the watchful gaze of Sister Patrick or the jurisdiction of a charge nurse, to get to know more about this man on her own terms.
    “You’re looking well this morning, Olympia. Have a good weekend?” Luther pushed his plate to the middle of the table. “Want to share my muffin? It’s bigger than I can eat by myself. I’ve already cut it in half.”
    Olympia eyed the half muffin. She didn’t need any more calories added to what she was already consuming in the cappuccino, but the smell of the cranberry-orange confection dissolved her willpower, and she accepted with a guilty grin.
    “Thanks, Luther. I don’t really need it, but …”
    Luther looked across the table at Olympia. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who are always counting calories, Olympia, and if you are, forget it. You’re fine just the way you are.” Then Luther paused and added, “I think you’re a very attractive woman.”
    Olympia ducked her head and smiled. She couldn’t help being pleased by the compliment. She was always wishing to be twenty pounds thinner but not so much so that she actually did anything about it for very long. So a man who appreciated her for the size and shape she was had at least one point in his favor.
    “So, how’s it going now that we have the first week behind us? At least I’m learning my way around the complex and remembering everybody’s names.” Olympia was licking her fingers and collecting the crumbs on her napkin as she spoke.
    He shook his head and looked doubtful. “I’ll feel more confident after I get through my first verbatim this afternoon. I’ve never been good at writing. I’m better at speaking. I feel like I’m more in control.”
    If Olympia found anything odd in this remark, she didn’t comment on it. She did, however, file it for future reference, should she ever need it.
    “We’re here to learn, Luther. That’s how I look at it. It will be everybody’s first time in the verbatim barrel today.”
    “What do you mean by verbatim barrel?” asked Luther.
    “It’s a reference to