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Promises To Keep
Promises To Keep
Promises To Keep
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Promises To Keep

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Promises to Keep is my fifth novel and is a story of a young man, John Steele, who almost died with a dreaded disease of his day, Cholera.  His wife, Lucy, and son, Beau, both died while he survived.

Seeking to find himself, he leaves his home town and moves to an island where he and his father had spent so much time fishing as a young boy.  It is here where he begins a new life and finds hope and purpose for his life once again.

It is a story full of action, adventure, and lore that kept so many islanders living there even with the hardships of being isolated from the mainland.  

An historical representation of North Carolina's outerbanks.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJR Thomas
Release dateDec 26, 2016
ISBN9781386454373
Promises To Keep

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    Promises To Keep - JR Thomas

    CHAPTER 1

    JOHN STEELE LAY ON a raised hospital bed with a wadded pillow stuffed under his head; tired of lying prostrate and ready to be released.  The four walls of his small white partitioned area didn’t go all the way to the ceiling of the larger room and didn’t really block all the sounds of the crowded hospital bay.  Confined, that’s how the short walls made him feel. 

    Fortunately, a small window beside his bed gave him some access to the outside world, although very limited.  The window being high on the outside wall allowed a view of the sky and the tops of several tall pecan trees near the building.

    It hadn’t helped that John, a large man, had to deal with the problem of his feet dangling off the end of the bed.  While he was deathly sick, it had required two nurses to turn him over; an ordeal for all involved.

    Now able to get out of bed on his own, he didn’t need the bed pan anymore nor did it require the extra nurse, but he imagined all the nurses assisting in his recovery would still be glad to see the big man out of the bed.  He had not been the ideal patient.

    FROM THE CORNER OF his eye, a flicker outside the window drew his attention.  Turning his head ever so slightly, his vision focused on one of the old pecan tree limbs. It landed, a lone Carolina sparrow, on the leafless brown limb jutting outward towards the hospital, no more than a foot from his window.  Small grey feathers ruffled on its tiny body as it shook; as if the bird was cold. 

    Its small head flicked back and forth as if looking for someone or something, and then appearing as if by magic, two other sparrows landed, one on each side the lone bird.  The one on the left appeared much smaller than either bird.  Their small feet clutched the thin slender branch as they slowly shuffled closer and closer along the branch until their bodies touched with the stationary sparrow in the center. The view changed to three small grey birds huddling close as one; a family maybe?

    Within minutes of their arrival the two outside birds flew away leaving the bird alone, its tiny head flitting back and forth.  It continued to perch in the same spot for another minute ... then it flew away also.  The tiny limb from where they had previously perched moved ever so slightly and then stopped moving.  The tree limb became just as barren and lifeless as the rest of the tree.

    The scene outside his window reminded him of his situation.

    THOUGHTS OF HIS CLOSE encounter with death and his family dying came frequently; making him question why God had spared his life and not those of his family.  Guilt for surviving death weighed on him and brought on a state of depression, a first for John.  The image of the tiny sparrow, perched alone on the limb, burnt into his recent memory, came to mind frequently and didn’t help. 

    It hadn’t been that long he and his family had contracted the deadly disease Cholera, at the same time.  They even went to the hospital together, but his wife Lucy, and son Beau, both had died within a week of being admitted, whereas he had managed to pull through.  He had seen them suffer and pass, Beau went first, and then Lucy. She died from not only a disease that ravished her beautiful body, but also from a broken heart.  A mother who had seen her son die, a slow and agonizing death, right before her.

    Knowing she would soon die, some of her last words spoken to him were for him not to fault God for their deaths, and to not let this dark valley in life change his kind gentle spirit, love for life, and for him to not give up.  She made him promise this to her and although he struggled with saying the words, he had promised.

    Days passed after her death and John’s recovery continued, but his weak and fever racked body didn’t allow the attending of Lucy’s and Beau’s burial ceremony. 

    THE DETAILS OF THEIR deaths kept circulating in his mind continually and it had been no different this day. 

    When suddenly startled, John jumped, as much as a man could flat on his back in a bed.  It happened every time, even though he tried to plan for it.  He never seemed able to prepare for it. 

    The curtain separating him from other patients in the larger room slid abruptly open.  A loud noise as metal rings grated on supporting metal rod holder, it slid to one side, and the big barrel body of Dr. Tim Walters walked through, having shoved hard against the plastic curtain as he normally did.  He could never get used to the nerve wracking sound, he wondered if Doc enjoyed this annoying entrance and how he could keep from tearing the whole rod and curtain down.

    Well, how’s our young fireman today?

    I’m still a little wobbly on my feet, but getting stronger thanks to you and Nurse Anna.  What’s the chance of my getting out of this bed for good?

    "John, I’ve got good news for a change, I’m hoping to release you today.  I’m going to get Anna to get you out of bed and walk you some more, and if she feels you’re strong enough, I’ll release you.  Your body has recovered extremely fast, you have a healthy immune system, and we need this bed for someone who is actually sick.  I’m sorry I couldn’t save your wife and son; we did all our medicine allowed us to do, it was just out of my hands. 

    The disease has claimed so many good folks. They were special to me, seems just like yesterday Lucy and I delivered Beau as you looked on as a proud dad.  I’m also sorry you were in no condition to attend their burial.  I thought we were going to have to strap you in that bed. 

    Doc, I know you did all you could for them and I thank you.  As for me, I’m ready to check out of here right now, the long spell in this hard bed hasn’t been too good on my backside.  I feel like I have breathed in a whole bottle of your rubbing alcohol and I don’t know if I have had more than two hours continuous sleep since being here.

    I seriously doubt you’ve breathed that much.  I see you’ve got your clothes laid out and ready to go.  Looks like you’re going to leave with or without my releasing you.

    Yeah, some friends from the fire station brought me a new change yesterday.  I’m all set.  Nurse Anna hinted a little while earlier you might let me get out of here today, if I behaved.  I think she is tired of my complaining.

    I want to see you again in about a week, just to take a look at the bed sore on your bottom.  I’ll give you some salve to take with you.

    If I don’t show up, then you know its better.

    Have it your way, if I don’t see you... until next time.  No more close calls with death though, and by the way don’t overdo it.  Your mind might tell you you’re okay, but your body needs some recovery time.  Is there anything else I can do for you?

    No, afraid there isn’t, I’ll have to deal with the loss of my family myself; I don’t rightly know how as of yet, but I will find a way.

    "Sorry to say John, it will take time. As a doctor, I try with all the knowledge I possess to save lives, but even though I fight for each one of my patients. I have come to realize sometimes it is beyond what humans can do and better for those in untreatable suffering to pass, to pass through I believe the portal from this life as we know it to the life beyond death.  I’m a believer whose faith tells me there is another life beyond our sight; a Heavenly place prepared and waiting for our loved ones we had the privilege of sharing life along side.  I know you have that same faith and hope.  Let those thoughts give you comfort John.

    Remember, I’m always available if you need me.

    With a glance over the top of his eyeglass rims, the doctor shook John’s hand vigorously, turned around and passed back through the opening, yanking the grating curtain closed again, and on to his next patient in the filled room.

    John found himself being released that very day.

    MARCH 3, 1888, HIS twenty-seventh birthday, what had turned out to be the darkest year of his adult life; he had lost his family and on this supposedly special day, he sat eating a left-over ham biscuit alone, some birthday! 

    Released from the hospital just a couple weeks earlier, he had gone immediately to where his family lay in New Bern’s Cedar Grove cemetery.  Their graves had no headstones, only flowers marked were they lay.  He and Lucy always seemed to struggle with finances and there just wasn’t enough money to purchase them outright, but he was able to borrow money and had two nice headstones made and put in place. 

    MORE LONELY DAYS AND nights passed and John continued to struggle emotionally and avoided talking about Lucy and Beau with the men at the station and when they spoke of their families, he always made up a reason to leave the room. 

    He dreaded going home every night, the empty house only made him more depressed.  Sitting alone at home, he often found himself living his earlier years over and over wishing he had spent more time with his family, and not so much at the fire station trying to get ahead with his job. He had worked hard, incurring longer hours, and the captain had made him a shift boss, it seemed important then, but looking back it had taken so much time away from his wife and son.

    Lucy had been his school sweetheart and they had married upon graduation from high school.  They decided early on she would not work outside the home and they would get by on his wages.  They had only been married for a year when Lucy told him she was pregnant with Beau.  His son had only lived seven short years, just seven years.  Why, why had God taken them?

    His heart ached.  Just to hold them in his arms one more time.  When he got to the point of tears, he would try to switch to happier thoughts and those were often focused on his younger years growing up in his father’s house. 

    His father, Richard Steele had been a God fearing man, his hero, and had taught him his work ethics and respect for others, although John did remember with grimace his dad’s use of his wide leather belt.  His mom always made certain he and his sister had clean clothes and hot meals.  She and his dad were active at First Baptist church and saw to it that Elizabeth and he were in church every time the doors were open.  They wanted their children exposed to the Gospel and because of their faithfulness; both Elizabeth and he became believers of the Gospel as well at an early age.

    His dad, an uneducated man, struggled to make ends meet, but seemed to have time for his son and daughter; even in their hard times and he remembered they had plenty of them.

    Like his father before him, his family life had been his everything and today, all of his loved ones now lie buried in a cemetery; Lucy, Beau, his grandparents, father, mother, and his only sibling, Elizabeth, everyone close to him – were all gone. 

    John’s father had kept his family under roof and with ample food on their table by doing carpentry and seasonal salt-water fishing.  John as a teen had fished with him often in the estuaries and off the winding coastline of the well-known fishing village called Beaufort, snuggled near the deep waters of the main port and inlet waterway of Morehead, North Carolina often called the Promised Land by the local Ca’e Bankers. 

    John’s father had loved going to Beaufort so much that when their son was born John and Lucy had nicknamed their son Beau, short for Beaufort.  

    Those were happy days and even with the hard work tasked to him, by his father while working on his fishing boat, John fell in love with the area and people.

    AFTER SEVERAL LONG months of grieving and hours of counseling with his Pastor, John finally came to the realization he needed a change. A drastic change, he decided to sell his home and leave his job.  He would leave his current surroundings to try and regain some resemblance of happiness and purpose.  His earlier plans for a life with Lucy and Beau had abruptly ended with their deaths.  He had to come to grips with his new life or possibly become a despondent, sour and bitter man.  He knew God had a purpose for keeping him alive; he just didn’t know the reason yet, but he knew he had to find the answer.  He had made a half-hearted promise to Lucy, but he meant to honor it.

    With his house up for sale, he found himself thinking more and more about those earlier years of fishing with his father and the lure of those days enticed him. 

    He recalled Shackleford and Core Banks where as a young man he spent so many summer days and nights fishing in the surf and walking in the shallows on the backside of the islands spearing bucket size flounders by lantern light. 

    The long challenging days of handling his Dad’s sailboat as his father fished the nets.  He still to this day wished his dad had not sold it, but he had too because of one of those hard times.

    The folks on the Banks lived simply, but seemed to enjoy their lives even though the work was tough and never certain due to changes of seasons and storms.  Most were poor people who shared the little they had with each other.  Often times his father and he had been invited to share in their oyster roasts and fish stews. 

    The Bankers would speak in their Old English Brogue and John would struggle to understand their conversations, an amazing variation of English his mouth couldn’t speak.

    The more and more he thought about it, the more he felt drawn to the islands.  He had nothing to hold him to his home town of New Bern.  After weeks of thinking about what he would do, he finally reached the decision of what his change would look like.  When his house sold, he would take the money, move to Cape Lookout and become an Islander.  There he might find himself and hopefully a purpose for life.

    IMPATIENTLY HE WAITED ... another month passed before a young family finally purchased the house.  With it sold and he fully recovered physically, he started out from his small home town of New Bern with only what he could carry on him.  His heavily laden backpack, what money he had left in his wallet from selling his partially paid off two bedroom home, the rod-reel combo and ten-foot cast net he inherited from his father, some fishing tackle, a bucket, a bedroll tied to his backpack, the clothes, and boots he wore.  Not much to show for his twenty-seven years. 

    It did feel good he didn’t owe anyone anything.

    This early morning of September 19 found him on his new journey.  He had walked about two hours before a wagon, heading east, approached him, and he stepped off the road and raised his hand to signal for a ride.  At first, it looked as if the lone driver wasn’t going to stop and passed him by, but then John saw the old fellow yank on his mule’s traces, stopping them.

    Running to catch up to the wagon, John had to catch his breath before speaking. 

    Got room for another rider?

    Nope, but for one of those carrots in your top pocket there, I’ll make some room.

    John pulled the halved carrot out and handed it up to the old man.  The old man looked at the bit end and stuck it in his mouth anyways.

    I believe you been chewing on this one... young man.

    John gave the old man his biggest smile, but said nothing.

    Alright, you men back there, make room for this big feller.

    After a few hours of bumpy riding, the jostling wagon finally arrived at the port of Morehead.  The men sitting around him, rough and hard looking, most of them reeked of whiskey.  A sad looking lot of them; dock workers maybe, either working for, or hoping to find temp work at the port, John thought. 

    He stepped down and the rest followed suit, although a couple of them he had to help down to keep them from falling face first out of the wagon on their heads.  They all gathered up their personal items and so did John.

    Thanks for the ride, much appreciated.  John said, swinging his backpack onto his larger than average shoulders and gathering his other items from the ground.

    Good luck young man, you got a job here?

    Nope, I’m heading out to the islands.  I’m going try my hand at fishing.  Haven’t done it in awhile, but maybe it’ll come back.

    I heard the spots are running up and down the coast.  You might even find you a job with those Willis boys fishing or maybe whaling in Diamond City, if you’re lucky.  Times are hard and jobs are harder to come by.  Why you might even become one of those sea merchants and get a job on a freighter leaving out of Morehead.

    I’ll make it somehow.  Thanks again for the ride, sure beat walking.

    John turned and started his walk towards the small town of Beaufort that lay just a short distance across the inlet waterway between the small towns of Morehead and Beaufort.  The sun had dropped low and he figured less than an hour

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