Joyful, Joyful

Books by Sheila Holmes

Wedding Woes Series

A Wedding Disaster… Or Was It?

A Catastrophic Wedding Reception… Or Maybe Not?

Wedding Designed by Email… KiirstiAan's Nightmare?

Non-Fiction

With This Ring: Creative Ways to Give Your Purity Ring to Your Future Spouse

Awesome Love Series

Becoming His Awesome Beauty: Volume 1

Becoming His Awesome Beauty: Volume 2

Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1

Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 2

All in a Name Series

Joyful, Joyful

From Grace Abounds Grace (coming Summer 2020)

Grampy’s Old Typewriter Series

Manicotti Kisses: A Marriage Proposal Gone So Wrong!

Chili Dog Hugs: We Met, We Ate, We Fell in Love (coming Spring 2020)

Standalone

Christmas Fantasy Fulfilled

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Books by Sheila Holmes

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

A Word about From Grace Abounds Grace

About the Author

…weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

Psalm 30:5b, The Bible.

Prologue

You can sit here, if you want to, said Joy to the girl, smiling shyly. She moved her backpack so that the school bus seat next to her was empty and could accommodate the little girl. Rather than accepting the offer, however, the girl laughed loudly and responded, Yeah, right! That’s gonna happen! Everyone in the immediate area joined her laughter. Joy was embarrassed. Why were all the kids on this bus so hateful to her?! They treated her like she had a plague… or worse, they treated her like she was too ugly to be given any value in life. And they were right. She was too tall, too skinny, her face too narrow, and her nose was way beyond being called too long.

As she watched the girl walk away and opt to sit as a third person on another seat, with only part of her leg making contact with the seat, and the rest of her body suspended in air so that she had to hang on to the backrests of two other close seats to stay erect, Joy felt alone. Very, very alone. It wasn’t just the bus rides to and from school that were lonesome, she experienced the same rejection on the playground, in the school cafeteria… just everywhere!

Although no one seemed to want to sit with her, she continued to hold her backpack on her lap. Maybe if she smiled more… or maybe if she had some hidden candy with her that she could lure someone onto the seat beside her with… or maybe…

All the maybes in the world didn’t change anything. It appeared to her that she was going to be alone on the bus, just like every other day. Propping her copy of Pride and Prejudice on the backpack in her lap, Joy placed her nose right back into its pages. It was a good thing she loved to read, because making friends seemed to be an impossible task. At least she could make friends in the pages of any book she read. The characters never laughed at her, rejected her company, or said unkind things to her. They were fine with her looking on while they tried to find resolution to their own storyline problems.

Finally engrossed in chapter three, Joy didn’t see it coming. Her mind and thoughts were totally focused on Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine. So far, Mr. Darcy seemed to be rejecting her like all the kids on the bus rejected Joy. She and Miss Elizabeth were kindred spirits!

Hurry up and find a seat. I gotta get this bus goin’, the bus driver yelled at some kid. Joy didn’t even look up. She had tuned out every single thing happening on the bus, as she settled into the seat on her way home from the daily grinds of seventh grade.

Oww! she screamed when a huge, heavy backpack rammed into her bony hip. She realized she should have put her backpack back in the vacant seat next to her, since nobody ever chose to sit next to her anyway.

In response to her yelp, there was no one there to rescue her from the big, fat kid that had decided to take possession of the seat beside her. When he didn’t sit down fast enough to please Mr. Jackson, the irritable bus driver yelled again. This time Joy was watching the goings-on as the driver yelled again. I said, sit down! What’s wrong with ya? Are ya stupid or somethin’?

In response to the driver’s unkind words, the fat kid that had decided to first assault Joy with his backpack, plop down next to her, snarling, then mumbled something under his breath. Rather than showing her shock at the words that were barely whispered out of the fat kid’s mouth, Joy’s eyes got big enough to make her look either bug-eyed, or really scared. Or both! She knew those kinds of words existed, but they’d never come out of her mouth. Involuntarily, Joy inched closer to the window, and further away from the foul-mouthed kid.

As she returned her attention to her book, she was barely two to three sentences further in when Fat Kid poked her in the upper arm.

What’s yer name?! He didn’t ask as though he wanted to get to know her, or chat with her, or become her friend. It was a gruff-sounding demand that carried with it a you-better-tell-me-or-you’re-gonna-be-sorry implication.

Joy didn’t answer immediately. She was right in the middle of a sentence and was planning to respond as soon as she’d completed it. But, that wasn’t good enough for Fat Kid. So, with a second, almost vicious poke in the exact same place on her arm that he’d attacked just the moment before, he leaned over and placed his fat, sweaty face no more than six inches from her nose.

What’s wrong?! Ya deaf?! I asked ya what yer name is! This time, Joy closed her book quickly and drew her eyes up to his. He was so close that she felt like she was going to be speaking into his nostrils. She turned her face just a fraction of an inch to get relief from both the intrusive closeness and the lingering smell of pizza, cheese puffs, and chocolate milk, which had apparently been what he’d eaten for lunch.

Joy Ful… was all she’d been able to push past her lips, when Fat Kid did the unexpected. He belted out a hearty and at least semi-evil laugh and began loudly singing Joyful, joyful, she’s got a nose-full, she don’t look to me so joyful! At first Joy was in shock. She just sat there looking at him. But, by the third time through, she was horrified, because he was no longer chanting alone. At least one-third of the bus had joined in the sing-song phrases, and each time through they reached a more deafening decibel, as they pointed fingers at her while laughing and taunting her.

Joy turned her head toward the front of the bus, hoping the bus driver was hearing the ruckus and would soon tell them to knock it off. Or according to his past responses… he’d yell, Shut up and sit down! Instead, what she saw in his rear view mirror was a grown man who seemed to find the whole thing hilariously funny, and was laughing right along with them.

Mortified by all the attention… attention she wouldn’t have liked even if it was the good kind, because of her acute shyness… Joy saw there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop the affront. So, with the loud mocking chant ringing through the bus, Joy disappeared yet again into the safety of the written word. Elizabeth Bennet, you have no idea what suffering and rejection is!

School days may have been passing, but Fat Kid’s memory wasn’t. Every single day, Monday through Friday, morning and afternoon, no matter what row or seat Joy chose to sit in on the bus, Fat Kid, also known as Grant Cooper, located her and began his taunting of her.

After the first several days of torture, Joy not so much decided she’d ignore him each day, as she simply resigned herself to being mercilessly made fun of daily, so she would therefore focus all her attention on reading during the travel time, in spite of Grant Cooper.

As often as not, Grant would seat himself directly next to Joy, even if other seats were available. On the few times he didn’t, the seat remained vacant. When they shared a seat, though, and he got tired of taunting her with his song, he’d grab her book, Pride and Prejudice, and read a few sentences to the other kids, using a bad imitation of hoity-toity British society. When he’d gotten all the laughter he could milk out of it from the other kids, Grant slammed the book shut, and tossed it back in Joy’s direction.

Fortunately, Grant’s imagination was apparently not his greatest asset. Joy couldn’t help grin to herself as she intermittently gazed out her window. She could think of at least four other things he could have done to annoy her. He could have blown spit wads at her head, grabbed her sweater and played keep-away with the other bus riders, thrown her school books out one of the open windows, or used her own safety scissors that she kept in her backpack, and defaced her person by cutting off chunks of her one-and-only redeeming quality… her long, silky, deep chestnut hair.

As the next almost two weeks came and went, Joy burrowed even deeper into herself. She no longer tried to speak with other students on the bus. Nor, did she offer an invitation to share her seat. And, with each day, the sadness became visibly etched deeper and deeper into Joy’s face.

On the seventeenth day, however, something happened that Joy couldn’t figure out to save her life.

Grant Cooper got onto the school bus after school, walked right past Joy, never looking her way. Joy waited a couple minutes, but couldn’t stand it any longer. She turned back to see him sitting three rows behind her, just staring up at her. He didn’t even look away when she looked at him. He just sat there staring at her. When a couple of kids decided that if Grant wasn’t going to start the taunt directed at Joy, they would. But, no more than two or three words into it, Grant simply stood, looked around at all the ones starting to chant, and gave them a look that undeniably said Enough! Silence reigned. Grant sat back down. For the rest of the ride, he focused all his attention on the scenery outside his window.

Joy wasn’t sure if this was going to be permanent, or if he was trying to lull her into a false sense of security, after which he’d re-start his daily attacks, with even greater vigor.

But, Grant Cooper never again bothered Joy. Neither did he apologize. He simply rode to and from school daily in quiet-mode. Well… maybe not every day. A few days he returned to his thoughtless annoying, but with other kids, not her.

The damage, however, was done. And, although Grant never verbally attacked Joy again, she still had an almost fierce hatred of him for all the emotional pain he’d caused her in those several weeks, and she felt quite sure her hatred for Grant Cooper would never go away…

Chapter 1

Twenty plus years later…

When she awoke, somehow thinking her alarm was just within minutes of beginning its mercilessly loud buzzing, Joy threw out one arm from her bed and slapped down the alarm Off button. Or at least she thought she had. Apparently she had not… not any kind of button at all, and the next time she roused, it was with an almost violent start. Somehow she knew more than seven minutes had passed. Immediately turning her face to the bedside table clock, she tried to focus the time in. Unfortunately, without her contacts in, her vision was pretty much useless.

Rolling to her stomach, she used her left hand to tactilely scan the bedside table surface.

My glasses, where are my glasses?! I took them off last night and left them right there, didn’t I? Obviously not, because the right there had nothing on its surface but a fuzz ball. A big one. A fuzz ball of what she didn’t know, and that was the very reason she panicked and catapulted it across the room, sitting abruptly up in bed.

The very second she rose to a sitting position on the edge of her bed, Joy’s hand flew to her temple. Oh… my head! Oh, it hurts! What in the world gave me such a terrible headache?! Then she remembered the antihistamine tablet she’d taken at bedtime the night before. Why’d I take that last night? They may give me a solid night’s sleep, but they always leave me with such a wretched headache!

When Dr. Turner had called her around ten p.m. the night before, he’d told Joy that his wife, Jenny, was in labor and he was taking the day off to take her to the hospital and remain there with her until… Until what or when, he didn’t say. Mainly because this was their first baby, and a surprise pregnancy at that! Thirteen years married and this was going to be their first child! They were thrilled, of course, but had no idea what the day would bring, nor whether he’d even be to work the next day, or the day after that.

Joy, could you take my first four patients tomorrow morning? I’ve already called Eleanor and had her cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day. Fortunately, she’s been taking her pocket office scheduler home each evening for the last couple of weeks, for this very reason. But, she said when she called those first four, she couldn’t get hold of them. She didn’t bother leaving them messages, just hung up.

When Dr. Turner didn’t continue, Joy assumed she was supposed to respond.

Yes, of course I’ll take them.

Great! The first one is at seven-thirty a.m.

What? Since when have you started seeing patients that early?!

Well, usually, I don’t. I usually start about nine a.m., same as you, but in this particular case, the first one had some issues he wanted to talk over with me since his surgery. What you’ll be doing is just checking to see how he’s doing, record any problems, and…

In the background, Joy could hear a loud wail from Jenny, who had waited only until the end of the contraction before yelling to Dr. Turner, Ray, we’ve gotta go now! My water has broken… and I’m… having… serious…!

Joy jumped in without further discussion.

"I’ve got you covered, Ray. Four patients, first one at seven-thirty.

Give Jenny my love and tell her I’ll be over to the hospital after work tomorrow to see the little angel! That is assuming, of course, that she’s delivered her by then.

Oh, about the first patient, inserted Ray, take good care of him. He’s a racquetball buddy. By the way, he’s…

Raaaaay! interrupted a yelling Jenny from a distance.

Gotta go, Joy. And… thanks for helping me out!

Dr. Ray Turner never said goodbye, nor waited for one from his associate, Dr. Joy Fullerton.

As Joy put her iPhone down on her bedside table, she spoke aloud to herself.

"‘By the way, he’s…’ what?"

With a shrug of her shoulders, she figured if it was important, Ray would have completed the thought. Wouldn’t he? She hoped that didn’t mean he had some extreme post-op issues she’d need to deal with.

She had set her alarm for five-thirty a.m. after speaking with Ray. Normally it would be six-forty-five a.m. But, this time it was a special request from her orthopedic surgeon partner. And, she knew he would depend on her to pull off his absence at the practice without a hitch.

Unfortunately, she had been concentrating so hard on the doctor, his sweet wife, Jenny, and about the fact that by the end of the next day they would be parents of a little girl that they had already decided to name Constance, that setting the alarm sound-off time had been set, but the Off button never had been changed to On.

Even so, as she turned out the light, Joy thought, I’ve got this all under control!

*****

Seven-o-one?? That’s not what I set the alarm for! It should have gone off earlier, much earlier! What happened?! Talking to herself wasn’t unusual for Joy, but yelling at herself was.

Oh, man… uh… what do I do now?

Stopping right after her self-loathing comments, which included calling herself stupid, ignorant, idiot, and several other hateful nouns and adjectives, which served no real purpose other than allowing her to vent before moving on to Plan B for the morning, whatever that was going to be, she spoke aloud again.

Ok. I can still do this… uh… Let’s see… When her brain wouldn’t kick into gear quickly enough, Joy became frustrated enough that she grabbed a large blank neon orange Post-It from the desk on the opposite side of her bedroom. Unable to even enjoy squishing her toes through the brand new shag area rug she’d purchased recently, she walked to her writing desk and plopped down on the desk chair and began scribbling.

Shower, wash hair, groom hair, makeup, power protein shake, press shirt, get dressed.

Realizing there didn’t begin to be enough time to do everything she’d just scribbled down, she took another minute to edit out all but two: groom hair and get dressed.

Go!

Quickly brushing her teeth, she then ran a brush through her tangled mane. Summer had brought a viciously high temperature the day before, which left her hair looking heat-ravaged and greasy. She had planned to wash, curl and wear her hair down, but there wasn’t a prayer of that happening. Between the brush and her other hand’s splayed fingers, she pulled all