No, I’ve never published contemporary fiction before. Yes, I have been writing it, off and on, for years. Other things seemed more important. But I happened to show a Counselor-in-training friend a short story I wrote over 20 years ago called, “Cowboys and Indians”. She was thrilled with the ideas in the story, about threats to marriage, about trust and playful intimacy, and about the looming threat of divorce in Christian marriages. She wanted me to publish it stand-alone, but I thought I would add to it, and focus on the secondary characters of Sam and Vivian Tucker. He’s a cop. She’s a photographer. After 20+ years together, they both see marriage and Christianity a little differently from some people, and they want to help couples in trouble. Divorce, Adultery, intimacy issues, spousal abuse, cultural taboos, and even child trafficking are all here in this collection of five stories. One reviewer said that if this book had existed back when she was married, it might have saved her from divorce. Whew! With Fifty Shades of Gray so popular, even among Christians, and the movie digging those ideas deeper into everybody’s heads, I thought this was a need that I might be able to fill. Give Tucker&Tucker a chance to help more marriages and relationships learn about fidelity and intimacy, not dominance and submission.
See Cynthia P. Willow’s review here! http://www.cynthiapwillow.com/under-the-willow-tree-blog/my-review-of-fifty-shades-of-faithful-by-mary-c-findley
“Finding any drugs or beer kegs, officer?” Tim asked dryly, coming into the kitchen/living room.
“No, sir, and I’m not finding any food either, except this fossilized pizza.” He prodded the unopened box on the counter. “My friend said you’d been here about four days, taking long showers in the middle of the night. What have you been eating?”
“Well, nothing, I guess. My dad brought me that pizza when he was here – I didn’t really feel like it at the time. The coffee was complimentary with the coffeemaker when I moved in, as I understand it. I don’t normally drink it.”
“Well, it’s all there is, so choke it down. What do you normally drink?”
“Straight bourbon,” Tim grunted, swigging the coffee. “Ugh, this stuff is horrible. How can you drink it?”
“With four sugars and three creams,” the police officer replied. “But you don’t have anything like that. If you drink bourbon, you must eat the bottles afterward.”
“Right, I do. And then I beat up my wife.”
“Yeah, I believe that as much as I believe the bourbon.”
“No, it’s true. Call up your headquarters, or whatever you call it. You’ll find a protection from abuse order under Timothy James Reynolds. Or is it filed under her name? Sandra – Sandra–”
Tim buried his face in his hands and sobbed. His cup fell on the floor and the coffee scalded his leg but he didn’t care. The police officer pulled him up onto his feet and shook him hard.
“Say, what is wrong with you? You’re not drunk. There are no drugs – no anything in this place. You’ve shaved and taken showers, even washed clothes, my friend tells me from spying on the laundry room. Everything’s perfectly neat – clothes put away, no dust. If I had to guess I’d say you’re a Christian. What’s all this about a protection from abuse order?”
“No, no, you’re making a big mistake, officer, calling me a Christian,” Tim said, dangling in the bigger man’s grip. “I’m a pervert, a sadist. Ask anyone who knows me. Ask my wife – Is she still my wife, do you think? Can they divorce you without you even knowing about it?”
“Sit down,” the officer said. Tim sat. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Did Sandy send you? Is she gathering evidence? Don’t you have to read me my rights?” Tim was babbling. He knew it. He just didn’t know how to stop. He was tired, he was sick; he couldn’t think. But the story came pouring out of him anyway, and the stranger in the police uniform sat down across from him and listened without saying a word.
“So that’s how it is,” the officer murmured. “Look, son, it’s Sunday morning.”
“Is it?” Tim asked blankly.