New YA Fantasy Release! The Welcome Sign by Barbara Jean Weber


After finding a beautiful mermaid welcome sign, a young girl encounters a hidden and wondrous magical realm filled with magical characters, unlikely new friends and embarks on a dangerous quest to save the world from evil and restore the balance between the real world and the magical realm...


When 10-year-old Molly Parnell’s grandmother mysteriously disappears she and her mother travel to Cape Cod to take ownership of the house they inherited and find out answers about the sudden disappearance. But what they discover could be more dangerous and life changing than they ever imaged. Molly and her mother find a beautiful mermaid welcome sign in the attic and place it on the front door. Unusual things start to happen and they are flooded with visitors who claim they knew the grandmother.  The true powers behind the mysterious sign are revealed as Molly learns her grandmother was part of a secret organization working to keep balance between the magical realm and the real world. The magical realms placed an invisible veil of secrecy over the world to hide their true identities from the human world but allowing them to live among them  in secret. An angry rebel group of magical beings, tired of living in hiding is tearing down and destroying the magical cloaking fabric between the two worlds. If they are not stopped the magical realm will no longer be safe from the world.  As Molly and her mom embark on a dangerous and magical adventure throughout the magical realms to help stop  the rebels, she learns of her own magical powers and her strong family heritage connected to the welcome sign. Along the way, she teams up with new magical friends helping to keep the realm of magic safe from the eyes of the world and discovers that her grandmother was right all along. The world she thought she knew no longer exists, but an amazing world of magic woven into their world has always been hiding  in plain sight.

  • Genre: YA Fantasy
  • Sub-genre: Teen & Young Adult Magical Realism Fiction
  • Language: English
  • Pages: 218
  • Paperback ISBN: 979-8350987287

Read sample here.

The Welcome Sign is available at Amazon.

Excerpt: 


PROLOGUE

CRYSTAL PERKINS SLIPPED INTO HER OFFICE AND LOOKED carefully down the hallway. It was shortly after 8:00 p.m., and the office was dark and deserted. The only staff remaining was the cleaning crew. She threw one last look around the hallway and nervously shut the door quickly behind her. She glanced out the window, closed the blinds, and turned on the small desk lamp.

Crystal slumped down in her chair and unfolded the newspaper on her desk. She ran her hand anxiously through her short, curly black hair. She couldn’t believe all of this was happening so quickly. Things were totally out of control, and she didn’t know how they were going to fix them. Sighing deeply, she glanced at the article in bold print and reached for the phone. She continued to stare at the front page of the newspaper as she frantically dialed the numbers on the phone. In bold print on the first page of the newspaper were these words: “More Unusual Sightings of Strange Creatures: An Elaborate Hoax or Fact?”

“Warren, it’s Crystal. Have you seen the newspaper today? There have been more sightings!” Her voice was shaky and worried. “It’s getting too overwhelming!” She ran a hand across her forehead.

“Crystal! Calm down. I have my people looking into this right now on my end,” a deep voice replied. “Have you questioned the witnesses yet? Are their stories credible? Are you—” he asked with a concerned tone but stopped suddenly.

“Yes, of course I have investigated all of the local reports and followed up on all the new leads regarding the sightings! Besides, Warren, that is my job. Isn’t that why you put me in the position of investigative reporter in the first place? Plus, Warren, like you. I know the real story. She paused with a deep sigh. “But Warren, there are too many! I can’t keep up. Warren, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Crystal, do you hear that humming sound in the handset? I’m not sure this is a secure line! Quick, call me on the other line!” There was a click and the line instantly went dead. Crystal dug deep in her purse and pulled out a small pearl-colored compact. The circular device shimmered as she turned it in her hands. She quickly scanned the room to make sure she was alone. Flipping open the compact, Crystal dropped in five small glowing bead-like objects from a long, clear vial she had also removed from her purse. She breathed over them, and instantly they broke apart into smaller pieces. She pushed a button on the side of the compact, and the glowing objects began to melt and formed a glowing, watery substance. Crystal dipped her finger in, swirling it slowly in a clockwise direction. Slowly the glowing substance rose out of the compact in a funnel shape and expanded out to form a lighted, liquid screen about ten inches in length. Through a shimmery haze Warren’s face appeared in the watery screen. He spoke in a low voice.

“Is it safe to talk here?” he asked quietly. Crystal nodded. “Yeah, it’s late. There shouldn’t be anyone else here. Everyone has gone home. I think the only people that are here now are the cleaning crew.”

“We must be absolutely sure! There is too much at stake here. I think your office phone may be bugged. We can’t speak on the regular line anymore, understand?” Warren warned. “As my number one investigative reporter, YOU are in charge of making the witness’s stories sound ridiculous, and it’s your job to discredit the reports inthe papers. Under no circumstances can we let the real story get out. EVER! It’s important that we keep the truth hidden. I’ve got others strategically placed in these roles around the world doing the very same jobs. Don’t make me think I picked the wrong person for this job, Crystal!”

Crystal nodded. “You did pick the right person for the job. You know Warren, it’s getting harder to cover this up.” Crystal ran a hand slowly across her forehead and through her hair. “Wait, Warren,” she stammered. Hearing a noise in the hall, Crystal stood up and approached the door. “Warren, hold on. I heard something.” She listened quietly, cracked open the door, and peered into the darkened hallway. The light from her office made dark shadows dance along the walls as she opened the door. Silently and unseen, a tall, slender figure slid the toe of his shoe into the dark shadows, pulled his body tighter against the wall, and held his breath. Crystal glanced around, and when she was convinced no one was there, she closed the door quietly. “I’m losing my mind, Warren. I’m sure I just heard footsteps in the hallway.”

“Calm down! Don’t be so jumpy, Crystal. You’ve got to hold it together! It was probably just the cleaners. Now is not the time to lose it. You’ve got to keep your head clear,” Warren stated authoritatively.

“Warren, there’s something else. I think I’m being followed. I swear I keep seeing the same car—”

Warren cut her off with, “Don’t panic. I’ll get someone over there for your protection and to keep an eye on you. They should be there in the morning. Just stay focused and on task. We can’t let this get out of control, understand? We won’t let anything happen to you!”

“Our paper wants to run a similar article as what the witnesses are saying,” she whispered. “And Warren, I’m looking at a press release that they want sent out as soon as possible. The witnesses sound very credible this time . . . I’m having a hard time covering this up. Warren, what do we do? There are too many sightings. More and more are coming in every week, and I’m running out of creative ways to cover them up! We need to get this stopped RIGHT NOW! I need some serious help from your end!” Crystal stammered nervously.

“I know! I know,” Warren nodded. “We’re doing all we can over here. We’re trying to find out who’s responsible so we can stop them. You just keep doing the best you can. We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Whatever you do . . . Keep the secret hidden. It’s imperative that we continue to keep this under control. We’ve been able to keep this hidden for a long time, and I’m not about to let the secret loose now. We must keep covering this up! And we need to do it quickly! We’ll talk in a few days. Warren out!”

The liquid screen started swirling slowly, gradually picking up speed and ultimately dissolving back into a sparkling funnel shape and descending into the compact. All that was left in the compact were several glowing bead-like objects. Crystal held the compact out and blew at the objects. The bead-like objects instantly disintegrated into a fine powder and were swept away without a trace. Crystal snapped the compact shut, shoving it back in her purse. This wasn’t going to be easy. Warren had given her the tough job of keeping their identify safe. Although there had been sporadic incidents here and there, their secret had been kept safe for nearly three centuries.

Why was it getting harder now while she was the investigative reporter? Things were skyrocketing out of control at a rate faster than she could handle.

Crystal had known Warren Tracer ever since she was a little girl. He was a dear family friend. They had all been true believers, and when Crystal was old enough to know the secret, she was brought into the circle of trust. As she grew older, she had seen more of Warren and learned about his unbelievable secret. Warren Tracer hadn’t always been Warren Tracer. His original name was Whalen Marks, and although he was not a magical being, he possessed great magical powers.

In his younger years, he and her father had been with the Special Forces for the military. During a particularly secretive mission, a trap had been set, and the mission had gone terribly wrong. Everyone had been reported dead. However, the real events of the mission had never been revealed.

All Crystal knew was that Warren, her father, and several of the men had made an amazing discovery on that day. The mission had indeed gone horribly wrong, but several of the Special Forces men had been rescued. Crystal suspected that Warren and his men had made contact with beings of the magical realm. Warren rarely spoke of the events of that day, but she knew better than anyone that Warren was a true believer. Something remarkable had happened to him and his men, but no one knew exactly what that was. Just that it was remarkable and life changing.

Warren had eventually changed his identity, becoming Warren Tracer, and begun working undercover for the magical realm. When her father died several years later, Warren had stepped in as a replacement. He had been family from the beginning, so to accept him as a father figure wasn’t difficult.

Eventually, Crystal had been approached to work for Warren in helping keep their secret safe. There was nothing more in the world that Crystal wanted than to help out her new friends. She’d jumped at the chance to work undercover at the newspaper and keep Warren up to speed on all the local sightings. It was a dream come true. Warren and the others didn’t disappoint her, and she loved her job. She had been working with the newspaper for over eleven years now, but of late, she was finding it harder and harder to hide the truth.

Crystal hoped Warren would find those that were responsible for the tears in the fabric and stop them. They would need a lot of help if they were going to keep the secret safe this time. As she sighed heavily and slumped back in her chair, she caught a quick glimpse of movement to her side. Startled, Crystal looked up suddenly. There had been more noises that she was sure weren’t made by the cleaning crew. In a flash Crystal stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, two tall, shadowy figures flung open the door, bolted from her office, and were joined by a third in the hallway. They had heard everything. In the wrong hands, the information that she’d conveyed to Warren could prove very dangerous. As she grabbed for the compact in a frantic panic, the three figures dashed from the building at an astonishingly fast speed and vanished without a trace silently into the night.

– Excerpted from The Welcome Sign by Barbara Jean Weber, BookBaby, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 


About the Author

Barbara Jean Weber lives in Skagit County with her husband and two daughters, where she works as a speech and language therapist. Her novel, The Welcome Sign, was inspired when she was gifted a mermaid welcome sign. The more she studied the sign, the more her story evolved. She is currently an active member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

Visit her website at https://www.barbarajeanweber.com/

 

❤Author Interview: Paranormal Thriller Author Theresa Cheung: NightBorn #authorinterview

 


Theresa Cheung is an internationally bestselling author and public speaker. She has been writing about spirituality, dreams and the paranormal for the past 25 years, and was listed by Watkins Mind Body and Spirit magazine as one of the 100 most spiritually influential living people in 2023. She has a degree in Theology and English from Kings College, Cambridge University, frequently collaborating with leading scientists and neuroscientists researching consciousness.

Theresa is regularly featured in national newspapers and magazines, and she is a frequent radio, podcast and television guest and ITV: This Morning’s regular dream decoding expert. She hosts her own popular spiritual podcast called White Shores and weekly live UK Health Radio Show: The Healing Power of Your Dreams.

Her latest book is the paranormal thriller, NightBorn, available at Amazon US and Amazon UK.

You can visit her website at www.theresacheung.com or connect with her on X, Facebook, Instagram or Goodreads.



I am so excited about your book, NightBorn. Why did you choose this particular story to write?

I’ve spent much of my life exploring dreams, consciousness and the mysteries of the psyche through my non-fiction work, spiritual writing, and dream research. But the more I studied dreams, the more I felt that fiction could allow me to explore these ideas in new and powerful ways that could reach a larger more mainstream audience. NightBorn sprang from a “what if” question that haunted me for a long time: what if dreams weren’t just private  and what if they could be shared, manipulated, weaponised?

I chose to write this story because it felt both deeply personal and terrifyingly possible. As someone fascinated by psychology, the unconscious and the porous boundary between waking and sleeping life, I wanted to imagine a world where the dream space becomes a battlefield. Writing NightBorn gave me the freedom to weave together psychological tension, conspiracy, and the surreal potential of shared dreaming, all questions I’ve long wondered about.








Can you give us a blurb so others will know what it’s about?


 


What if the line between your waking life and your darkest dreams disappeared forever? Alice Sinclair, a driven psychology professor, is about to find out. When thousands of people begin experiencing terrifying, vivid nightmares — all centered around her — Alice’s quiet academic life is shattered. Haunted by the question of why she’s become the subject of these shared dreams, Alice embarks on a desperate search for answers, uncovering a chilling secret: someone — or something — hungry for global power has discovered a way to manipulate consciousness itself. The world is fast becoming a playground for those in control of the dreaming mind. In a heart-stopping race against time, Alice must navigate a treacherous web of deception, where nothing — and no one — can be trusted, not even herself. 

 

Can you tell us a little about the main characters?

  • Alice Sinclair is the protagonist. She’s a psychology professor: intelligent, analytical, rational. But her life turns upside down when she realises she’s appearing in and perhaps even controlling other people’s nightmares. Alice is forced to confront everything she thought she knew about consciousness, identity and what it means to "own" your mind.
  • Others around Alice: As the novel unfolds, Alice becomes embroiled in a dangerous conspiracy that spans not just individuals, but institutions. There are allies and enemies whose true motives are unclear and part of the psychological tension comes from Alice’s inability to fully trust anyone, even people close to her. (I don’t want to give away too many spoilers!)

I wanted Alice to feel like a real, grounded person: someone readers can believe, empathise with and fear might be on the brink of losing herself.


 

Where and when does this book take place?

NightBorn is set in the near future, in Florida USA and also in central London UK in a world very similar to our own. Alice’s academic life is rooted in the familiar: university halls, lecture theatres, everyday routines. That normality makes the incursion of the surreal, shared nightmares, mass consciousness manipulation all the more jarring. By situating the story in a world that feels recognisably our own, I hope the sense of psychological horror lands more deeply with readers.

 

They say all books of fiction have at least one pivotal point where the reader just can’t put the book down. What is one of the pivotal points in NightBorn? 

One of the most pivotal moments comes fairly early on, when Alice realises that the nightmares she’s experiencing and sharing aren’t isolated. They’re not just hers. Thousands of people all over the world are reporting the same horrifying, vivid dreams dreams in which she is central.

That moment reframes the entire story. What began as a personal psychological mystery becomes something much larger: a global phenomenon. At that point, the stakes jump from “What is happening to me?” to “What is happening to humanity?” It’s a turning point where Alice moves from being a bewildered academic into someone running for answers  and safety. That shift in tone and scope tends to make readers hold their breath.


 

Does your book carry a message?

Yes. It is a thriller that messes with your mind for a reason because as well as being a page turner it is also a crash course in dream decoding for those who don't tend to read non fiction though I hope I’ve woven it subtly into the story. NightBorn is ultimately an exploration of consciousness, identity, and power. It asks: Who owns our minds? And: What happens when that boundary between self and other - between private inner life and public influence - breaks down?

I wanted readers to ask themselves: what if the unconscious isn’t just private and personal and what if it can be manipulated, controlled, harnessed? And what responsibility do we have, individually and collectively, for the landscapes of our own minds?

It’s also a cautionary tale about power, political, psychological, technological, and the ways in which control over consciousness might become the next frontier.


 

What's your next project?

My next non fiction project explores the Twin Flame Journey but fiction wise I’m already thinking about what comes after NightBorn. While I don’t want to reveal too much just yet, I am very interested in continuing to explore the boundary between dreams and reality perhaps from a different angle. Expect more psychological suspense, maybe more conspiracy, perhaps even a deeper dive into dreamscapes that blur the lines between memory, prophecy and imagination.

 

Where can we pick up copies of NightBorn?

It's currently available on Amazon and Amazon Kindle.

 



Is there anything you’d like to tell your readers and fans?

Yes just a heartfelt thank you. Writing NightBorn has been a journey: a leap from non-fiction and spiritual writing into the imaginative, unpredictable world of fiction. I poured a lot of personal experience, decades of research and maybe a bit of fear into this book.

If you pick it up, I hope it makes you think differently about your dreams and it may very well trigger clearer dream recall as that is what readers are telling me. I hope it makes you question what’s real. And maybe, just maybe, make you a little more curious about what happens behind your closed eyelids when you sleep.

Thank you for reading, for supporting me, and for exploring this world with me. I can’t wait to hear what you think… and what you dream.






Inside the Pages: Cinder Bella by Kathleen Shoop

 




Title: Cinder Bella
Author: Kathleen Shoop
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 228
Genre: Historical Fiction w/strong romance thread

She never had anything.

He lost everything.

Together they create a Christmas to remember.

December, 1893–Shadyside, Pennsylvania

Bella Darling lives in a cozy barn at Maple Grove, an estate owned by industrialist Archibald Westminster. The Westminster family is stranded overseas and have sent word to relieve all employees of their duties except Margaret, the pregnant maid, James the butler, and Bella. Content with borrowed books and a toasty home festooned with pine boughs and cinnamon sticks, she coaxes the old hens to lay eggs–extraordinary eggs. Bella yearns for just one thing—someone to share her life with. Always inventive, she has a plan for that. She just needs the right egg into the hands of the right man.

Bartholomew Baines, a Harvard-educated banker, is reeling in the aftermath of his bank’s collapse. With his friends and fiancé ostracizing him for what he thought was an act of generosity, he is penniless and alone. A kind woman welcomes him into her boarding house under conditions that he reluctantly accepts. Completely undone by his current, lowly position, and by the motley crew of fellow boarders who view him as one of them, Bartholomew wrestles with how to rebuild.

With the special eggs as the impetus, the first meeting between Bella and Bartholomew gives each the wrong idea about the other. And when the boarding house burns down a week before Christmas it’s Bella who is there to lend a hand. She, Margaret, and James invite the homeless group to stay at the estate through the holidays. But as Christmas draws closer, eviction papers arrive. Maple Grove is being foreclosed upon. Can Bella work her magic and save their Christmas? Is the growing attraction between Bella and Bartholomew enough for them to see past their differences? 


★★★★★ ORDER YOUR COPY BELOW★★★★★

 


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Chapter 4

Bartholomew

He didn’t know how long he’d been daydreaming before excited murmurs drew him back to the line he was standing in and his assigned errand. So distracted by his childhood memories, he hadn’t even noticed the egg girl arriving and fitting her bin into the table space the bread lady had cleared. But he did watch as the bread lady hugged the egg lady and though he could see her only from behind, he could tell the egg girl was much younger. A scuffle in the line drew his attention to two women in front of him, one shouldering ahead of another for the “best selection of the special eggs.”

The dustup died down when the bread lady huddled up to referee. The egg girl was prancing away looking like she had the world on a leash, like he used to feel every day. Imagine feeling like that in such dire times. He watched those ahead of him gently place eggs in their baskets, only permitted to select twelve at most. None of them picked up eggs and weighed them in their palm. Choosing in the hopes of winning a double yolk was apparently only the desire of Mrs. Tillman and as he inched closer to his turn he was growing more self-conscious about what he had been commissioned to do.

When it was his turn he followed his orders, picking up each egg, closing his eyes and feeling the weight or whatever in his palm before either placing the egg back in the box and selecting another or putting it into the basket.

When he’d gotten to egg number six the woman behind him pinched the back of his arm. Not that it hurt through layers of clothing, but it startled him. “What?”

What is right, all right. Think I got all day and night to wait for you to court each egg like it’s the princess you’re taking to the Christmas ball?”

He flinched and stared at the woman. Sooty cheeks and raw hands gave her station in life away. And her treatment of him caused him to lose any chance of responding. How dare she?

“Cat got your tongue, fancy pants? Let’s go or I’ll butt right in front of you.”

“Yeah, get the lead out,” another voice came from farther down the line.

“Ain’t got all day, sailor,” a third heckler joined in.

He lifted his basket. “I’ve been issued specific instructions for—”

A snowball smacked into his back, shutting him up. He spun around and scanned the crowd for who’d thrown it.

“See, even people not in line with us are tired of your mouth. Move it.” The woman behind him held his gaze.

He’d never felt so… he didn’t even know how to describe how this treatment made him feel. He tried to stop himself from rattling off the specifics of his resume and instead went with the general query of, “Don’t you know who I am?”

Another snowball thwapped his back.

“A regular jackass,” someone said from down the line.

He turned again to see who’d hit him with the snowball and the woman behind him used the opening to slide in front. He turned back and stuck his hand into the box, blocking her out. “I’ll hurry. Just let me get the other six.”

She crossed her arms, the baskets resting in the crook of each bent elbow. “Six seconds for six eggs. Get on with it, moneybags.”

“Thank you,” he said. He reached for an egg and lifted it in his palm as he had the others.

The woman started counting one, two, three and the rest of the line joined in. They were serious about him moving quicker. Mrs. Tillman would just have to understand. He didn’t doubt they’d toss him out of line if he didn’t just pluck eggs from the box and move on. And so he did. The last thing he wanted was to break eggs and have to shovel coal or something to make up for it when he got back to Mrs. Tillman’s.

“I have things to do, too, you know,” Bartholomew said. “You folks aren’t the only ones with obligations and—”

“Yeah, whada you have to do today, change into other pairs of fancy pants another three times before burrowing into a bed laid with golden goose feathers?” the woman who’d pinched him asked.

His tongue tied, but he didn’t stop himself from responding. “Uh…”

“Uh? Smoke a pipe of the finest tobacco? Yeah, what else? Sit all day with the paper while someone shines your shoes?” another voice from down the line said.

He straightened, face burning hot, blindly plucking eggs from the pile and placing them into his sack. All of those things would have been fairly close to his daily life before. Before it all crashed around him. “No. Newspapers, yes, but for the market reports and…” Suddenly his studying the news of the day seemed like a luxury instead of the work it was when pronouncing the task to the particular crew waiting in line. Suddenly, he had no words at all. “Forget it.” It was as though none of them knew he was a nice guy. It was as though they assumed he’d done something awful—that it was written across his forehead. He hesitated before moving to pay, considering whether to give them an education in all his achievements and good works. But the woman muscling past him sapped the last bit of energy he had that morning.

He paid and stalked away having been saturated with enough degradation to last the day, to last a century.

– Excerpted from Cinder Bella by Kathleen Shoop, Independent, 2021. Reprinted with permission.


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Bestselling author Kathleen Shoop, PhD writes historical fiction, women’s fiction, and romance. Shoop’s novels have garnered awards in the Independent Publisher Book Awards (IPPY), Eric Hoffer Book Awards, Next Generation Indie Book Awards, and more. You can find Kathleen in person at various venues. She’s on the board of the Kerr Memorial Museum, teaches at writing/reader conferences, co-coordinates Mindful Writers Retreats and writing conferences, and gives talks at various book clubs, libraries, and historical societies.

Sign up for her newsletter at www.kshoop.com

Visit her website at www.kshoop.com or connect with her on X, Facebook, Instagram, BookBub, TikTok and Goodreads.

Cinder Bella is available at Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble & Kobo


Inside the Pages: Fighter Pilot's Daughter by Mary Lawlor

 




Title: Fighter Pilot's Daughter
Author: Mary Lawlor
Publisher: Rowman and Littlefield
Pages: 323
Genre: Memoir

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter: Growing Up in the Sixties and the Cold War tells the story of Mary Lawlor’s dramatic, roving life as a warrior’s child. A family biography and a young woman’s vision of the Cold War, Fighter Pilot’s Daughter narrates the more than many transfers the family made from Miami to California to Germany as the Cold War demanded. Each chapter describes the workings of this traveling household in a different place and time. The book’s climax takes us to Paris in May ’68, where Mary—until recently a dutiful military daughter—has joined the legendary student demonstrations against among other things, the Vietnam War. Meanwhile her father is flying missions out of Saigon for that very same war. Though they are on opposite sides of the political divide, a surprising reconciliation comes years later.

★★★★★ ORDER YOUR COPY ★★★★★


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The pilot’s house where I grew up was mostly a women’s world. There were five of us. We had the place to ourselves most of the time. My mother made the big decisions—where we went to school, which bank to keep our money in. She had to decide these things often because we moved every couple of years. The house is thus a figure of speech, a way of thinking about a long series of small, cement dwellings we occupied as one fictional home.

It was my father, however, who turned the wheel, his job that rotated us to so many different places. He was an aviator, first in the Marines, later in the Army. When he came home from his extended absences—missions, they were called—the rooms shrank around him. There wasn’t enough air. We didn’t breathe as freely as we did when he was gone, not because he was mean or demanding but because we worshipped him. Like satellites my sisters and I orbited him at a distance, waiting for the chance to come closer, to show him things we’d made, accept gifts, hear his stories. My mother wasn’t at the center of things anymore. She hovered, maneuvered, arranged, corrected. She was first lady, the dame in waiting. He was the center point of our circle, a flier, a winged sentry who spent most of his time far up over our heads. When he was home, the house was definitely his.

These were the early years of the Cold War. It was a time of vivid fears, pictured nowadays in photos of kids hunkered under their school desks. My sisters and I did that. The phrase “air raid drill” rang hard—the double-A sound a cold, metallic twang, ending with ill. It meant rehearsal for a time when you might get burnt by the air you breathed.

Every day we heard practice rounds of artillery fire and ordinance on the near horizon. We knew what all this training was for. It was to keep the world from ending. Our father was one of many dads who sweat at soldierly labor, part of an arsenal kept at the ready to scare off nuclear annihilation of life on earth. When we lived on post, my sisters and I saw uniformed men marching in straight lines everywhere. This was readiness, the soldiers rehearsing against Armageddon. The rectangular buildings where the commissary, the PX, the bowling alley, and beauty shop were housed had fallout shelters in the basements, marked with black and yellow wheels, the civil defense insignia. Our dad would often leave home for several days on maneuvers, readiness exercises in which he and other men played war games designed to match the visions of big generals and political men. Visions of how a Russian air and ground attack would happen. They had to be ready for it.

A clipped, nervous rhythm kept time on military bases. It was as if you needed to move efficiently to keep up with things, to be ready yourself, even if you were just a kid. We were chased by the feeling that life as we knew it could change in an hour.

This was the posture. On your mark, get set. But there was no go. It was a policy of meaningful waiting. Meaningful because it was the waiting itself that counted—where you did it, how many of the necessities you had, how long you could keep it up. Imagining long, sunless days with nothing to do but wait for an all-clear sign or for the threatening, consonant-heavy sounds of a foreign language overhead, I taught myself to pray hard.

– Excerpted from Fighter Pilot’s Daughter by Mary Lawlor, Rowman and Littlefield, 2013. Reprinted with permission.

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Mary Lawlor is author of Fighter Pilot’s Daughter (Rowman & Littlefield 2013, paper 2015), Public Native America (Rutgers Univ. Press 2006), and Recalling the Wild (Rutgers Univ. Press, 2000). Her short stories and essays have appeared in Big Bridge and Politics/Letters. She studied the American University in Paris and earned a Ph.D. from New York University. She divides her time between an old farmhouse in Easton, Pennsylvania, and a cabin in the mountains of southern Spain.

You can visit her website at https://www.marylawlor.net/ or connect with her on Twitter or Facebook.

 

New YA Fantasy Release! The Welcome Sign by Barbara Jean Weber

After finding a beautiful mermaid welcome sign, a young girl encounters a hidden and wondrous magical realm fill...