A Legacy for Lissa. A Short Story Collection

 

 

A Legacy for Lissa and other Stories

By Alison Lawrence

Copyright owner:

Alison Lawrence. 2023.

A Legacy for Lissa and Other Stories is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental.

Bible quotations from:

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version ® ESV ® Copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Cover Photo by: Lance Reis. Unsplash.

Dedication:

To my Dad, Errol Foxcroft.

Contents:

A Legacy For Lissa

Days of Lack, Days of Love

Willow Song

In His Footsteps

Afterword

A Legacy for Lissa

Lissa found the card when she was packing her room up. She was leaving home. Long cherished memories tugged at her heart as she opened the old birthday card. "I will always love you." May the Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you His peace." All my love, Granny." 

That was the last time she'd heard from her gran. On her ninth birthday. She'd assumed that her gran had died, but she'd overheard her mother ranting at her father one night; saying how she wished Lissa's grandmother would stop writing and just leave them be. Even as a twelve year old she'd understood that there must have been letters and cards from her grandmother that she'd never gotten to see. Crumpled up and thrown away perhaps. When confronted, her mother's answers were vague, but hatred and unforgiveness always seeped out of her heart.

Lissa tucked the card into her bag. Once settled, she decided, she would find her gran.

***

"I love it." Declared Brianna. "You're definitely in charge of decorating." She and Lissa were going to be sharing the two bedroomed apartment. Both worked as shop assistants, and they had to pool their money to afford the rent. "I love the fake plants." Briana continued. "At least we don't have to remember to water them."

"A last minute house-warming gift from my mother. At least she tried." Lissa sighed. She wouldn't be missing home much.

***

As Lissa relaxed in the sunny lounge, she finally felt at peace. Everything was perfect. She knew what she must do now: she'd put it off long enough. It was a long shot, but perhaps she might find her gran on Facebook. With the old-fashioned name of Felicity, Lissa might have a chance. She was rewarded with a short list of Felicity Meyers. Excitedly, she went through each one, studying their pictures and profile information carefully. Lissa remembered that her grandmother had been tall with a cute pixie cut. She found one Felicity who might be her gran, but she was a well known blogger and author. Could she possibly be the one? As Lissa studied the photos on the page, she became convinced she'd found her gran. Nervously, she clicked on the link provided, hoping that she would be able to find an email address. She found one quickly, but for now she wanted to investigate Felicity Meyers' blog and find out what kind of books she wrote.

***

Full of anticipation, she grabbed some instant coffee and a sandwich. The website was simple yet pretty. Lisa turned her attention to the about page next. The biography read:"Felicity Meyers lives in Cape Dennis. Felicity enjoys beachcombing with her Labrador, Charlie when she's not writing inspirational Christian fiction." The biography went on to list her published novels. Lissa clicked on home, then read several blog posts, which included a sweet short story. Lisa felt drawn to this woman of faith. Could she be the one? There was only one way to find out. Before she could change her mind, Lisa clicked on the email address and started typing.

***

A few days later, Lissa's phone rang after supper. "Lissa? You emailed me a few days ago. I believe I'm your grandmother."

"You do? I believe you are too." Lissa was smiling, but hardly knew what to say.

"I remember the birthday card. It was your ninth birthday, wasn't it?" Lissa had sent a photo of the card in her email.

"Yes, it turned up when I moved." Lissa explained. It felt awkward to mention her mom, given the situation.

"Do you think we could meet on the weekend? My treat. I'll send you a bus ticket. We can walk on the beach." Lissa's grandmother sounded so hopeful and happy.

"That sounds perfect." Lissa agreed. 

"Just perfect, and what I've been praying for." Returned her gran.They hung up, promising to get all caught up during their visit.

***

"The ocean is so healing,don't you think?" Felicity Meyers asked Lissa as they walked near the waves with Charlie. Lissa nodded.

Felicity continued, "Ever since your mom cut me out of your lives, I've taken to walking nearly every day. Even if I can only spare a few minutes. And I pray. For you Lissa, and for your mom. For Your dad too. Seeing you is an answer to all those prayers." The two women watched as Charlie bounded joyfully in the waves. Lissa touched her gran on the arm. "Why, Gran? Why did she do it? It all seems so pointless." She wanted to cry when she thought of all the wasted years.

"It's hard to believe, Lissa, but your mom used to go to church. She loved Jesus and used to read her Bible before bed. She was such a sweet little girl. But she went through a rough patch in her teens and drifted away from church; from God. And from me." Felicity paused to wipe her eyes, then continued. "Then when she was at college, she met your Dad. He didn't believe in God at all, and that served to drive her further away. She didn't want to spend time with me anymore, and said she couldn't stand my books. It got worse when you were born. She was scared I would influence you. Tell you about Jesus."

"So she did everything she could to keep you out of my life." Lissa finished.

Felicity nodded. They stood quietly for a while watching the sea. For a moment, the tragedy of the situation felt overwhelming.

"But you're here now Lissa. And that is a wonderful start." Felicity broke the silence and gave Lissa a hug. "Let's go back to the house. I've got something to show you."

***

"I wrote all of these stories for you, Lissa. And for your mom.They are a piece of my heart." Felicity gestured to the bookshelf behind her lovely desk. "They are my legacy. I couldn't tell you that I loved you for all those years, Lissa, so I tried to tell you in my stories; hoping you'd come across them someday." She opened one of the books and showed Lissa the inscription: "To Lissa, may the Lord bless you and keep you. I wrote one for Penny; for your mom, too."

"I'm going to read this one first." Promised Lissa. "And I'm going to pray that Mom reads her one too. Can we pray for her now Gran?"

"Yes," Felicity smiled and placed her arm around Lissa. "Faith and prayer are the best legacies of all."

The End

Days of Lack, Days of Love

Elijah took a seat wearily in the waiting room. Another cup of coffee; another long night. The hospice staff was doing everything possible to keep Bethany comfortable; he didn't really need to be there. They would phone when her last hours dawned. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave his angel alone. Years ago, in another time and place, she'd stood by his side and fought for him. Granted, it had been a silent fight for the most part, but she'd fought well and hard. She wasn't fighting anymore, even though cancer was a more terrible enemy than those of the past. She didn't need to fight: she was going to Jesus.

***

The video irritated him more than usual. Probably because his emotions were so close to the surface. Had the eighties truly been the good old days? The video reminisced over sunshine, holidays, swimming at the beach, and popular brands of the day. He too, had eaten his fair share of Wilson toffees, but there were never any holidays, and beach outings were rare too, in his family at least. His irritation rose, and he began typing to the hapless friend who'd forwarded the message. He would probably delete it, but maybe writing from his heart would ease his pain.

***

"Those days were not the 'good old days,' at least not here, and you should know, because you were here too. Don't you remember, whites only benches, libraries, schools? Don't you remember the vendor who got beaten to a pulp because he looked at someone's white sister? Don't you remember, having to buy cheap clothes at Pep, because that's all we could afford? Well, I remember. I remember watching the white children with envy and longing as they went on their outings and ate their ice creams and sat on their whites-only benches." Elijah sighed with all the remembering, but there was a bright side too, and he would write it down, because Bethany was here, dying on a hospital bed, and he needed to remember. "I used to have a pretty low opinion of white people. When I got into university on a scholarship, I kept to myself, mainly, or hung out with the black students. It was the nineties, and things were slowly changing." Elijah couldn't help smiling as he remembered the next part of the story."Bethany was in my English class. My English wasn't up to scratch. She helped me. Day after day. I passed with her help. She was always my angel. She was beautiful too, but her heart was more lovely. We became friends and ate lunch together most days. Bethany was studying Zulu, so I helped her in return. I can picture the two of us, sitting beneath the flame trees, deep in conversation. It's not surprising that we fell in love." He stopped typing then, and just remembered quietly. He remembered the sacrifices that Bethany had made to be with him and the scorn and hatred she'd faced. Their relationship became a silent protest. Unwillingly, he remembered the day they'd been attacked and the wound on Bethany's head. He remembered. But he also recalled the many happy moments. Days of faith, love and laughter, and three beautiful children. Hardly a day passed when his children didn't stop by at the hospice. He was blessed. Yet, now, he had to say goodbye to his angel. How was he meant to do it? "Jesus, give me strength." He bowed his head and shortly afterward, deleted the words he'd typed. The past was forgiven.

***

Some weeks after the funeral, he took his children to picnic under the flame trees at the university. Surrounded by his family, with his daughter Andi's head resting on his shoulder, and God's tender love warming his heart; he remembered.

The End

Willow Song

The little book shop near the willows had a way of drawing people in. Perhaps the song of the willows and the lapping water of the canal also played their part. It was an irresistible combination. A nearby coffee shop with outdoor seating also beckoned to passers-by: stop awhile; to just be. The bookshop also urged you to put your phone aside; to breathe in the scent of books, to pick one up and sit on a window seat. To be still.

***

The pace was less slow for Avery that day, as she unboxed books, tidied up and helped customers. She loved helping her clients to find just the right book.Christian books, Bibles, children's literature and classics filled the shelves. Avery refused to stock anything that she considered to be rubbish. Come lunch time, she locked the door, and picked up her book to read, largely ignoring her phone. She smiled as she read the old children's classic. It took her back to childhood days. How many hours had she spent curled up in a chair, reading? Too many to count, she mused,as she continued her nostalgic journey.

***

A noise brought her out of her book world, and she was surprised to see a man waiting outside the bookshop door. He looked entirely unhurried and relaxed, but Avery decided to let him in. She couldn't afford to lose a customer. "Good book?" He asked with a smile. Avery still held her book in her hand." Yes," she smiled back."The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I wanted to read it again for old time sake." The young man was standing in the middle of the shop, entranced."It's been too long." He said, seeming to have forgotten Avery's presence. She cleared her throat. "Well, let me know if I can help." He turned to look at her then, and she saw an appealing boyishness about his face. "Do you have another copy of that?" He gestured to her book. "And perhaps a Hardy Boys adventure." 

"I do. Right over here."She led him to a section of adventure stories."For a young relative?"She enquired, hoping to be of assistance.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Seeing as you're reading a children's book, you may understand, well at least, I hope so. It's like this; like so many of us, I've been busy. Way too busy. I never read anymore, unless you count news headlines and social media posts." He paused, then he went on, encouraged by the understanding expression on Avery's face. " When I saw you reading at the window, something pulled me to the door. Walking into your shop made me feel like I was coming home." He laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much, I know."

Avery smiled."No need to apologize. I'm prone to some nostalgia myself." She handed him the C.S Lewis book and a Hardy Boys Adventure. He stared at the books fondly. "Perhaps these old friends will spark a love of reading in me again."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Avery grinned."I wouldn't be surprised at all."

***

As Liam sat at an outdoor table, listening to the song of the willows, he finished both his coffee and the last page of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. He paid, then wandered over to the bookshop. He'd been drawn to the delightful shop several times after his first visit. He'd selected several books with help from Avery, and now his bookshelf was looking a lot healthier. He realized though, that he was being drawn not only by the shop, but by the shop owner. Avery was special. She was charming, old-fashioned and sweet. And she loved Narnia too. He wondered whether he could get the courage up to ask her out. Would someone as well-read as Avery want to spend time with a guy who'd almost forgotten how to read?

***

Liam ambled around the shop until he had a gap to speak with Avery. "I finished it." His face was triumphant as he lifted the book." 

"Not quite," laughed Avery."There are several titles in the series."

"Well, I guess I'm going to have to read faster then. Good thing I uninstalled Instagram and Facebook."

Avery frowned. She really disliked social media. She was beginning to like Liam, but she wasn't sure they had much in common. "What did you think? Of the book?" Avery questioned, curious.

Liam's face became more serious."I truly enjoyed it. It transported me back to my childhood for one, but what really touched me is that Aslan represents Jesus. I have to admit, I was in tears when I read the part where the witch has Aslan on the table." Liam paused, then before he lost his nerve, blurted,"Avery, would you like to have a picnic with me?"

Avery was quiet, which couldn't be a good sign, thought Liam. The truth was though, that she was at a loss for words: not because he'd asked her on a date, but because he'd cried. Just as she had when she read the same part. A man who could cry when reading a book was worth getting to know better.

"Yes" Avery met his eyes. "Yes, I would like that very much." Impulsively, he gave her a hug, before grinning like a school boy. Then grabbing the rest of the Narnia books, he brought them to the counter.

"Looks like you've got a lot of reading to do." Laughed Avery.

"Sure beats scrolling." Grinned Liam. Then he walked outside surrounded by the scent of new books and willow song.

The End

 

Willow Song Poem

There's a little place in my heart,

its name is Willow Song:

where children play 'neath draping leaves

and the river winds along.

Ducks and swans go bobbing there

on water dancing, sparkling

where folks have time to sit and watch

give ear to willows' whis'pring.

There's a coffee shop on the banks

and an old-fashioned book shop too:

Bibles, Narnia, Spurgeon, Murray

call from glowing shelves anew

to curl up on the window seat

to leave our phones, quiet busy lives

with tabby purring on our knee

as whistling wind through willow sighs.

In His Footsteps

Jenny felt completely out of place as she stepped into the women's shelter. All she knew was that God had told her to come. It was enough, although she had no idea what she would say or do. The director ushered Jenny into a moderately quiet office and got straight to the point. "These are broken women, and broken children, Jenny." She sighed and contemplated the young woman sitting opposite her. "They are raw, and have been to places and seen things which are completely foreign to you. We give them shelter and food and a leg up out of their old life if they want it, but what they need most of all is the love of Jesus." 

Jenny nodded her agreement. She could love them at least. She was young and naive and she had never been so desperate to sell herself in order to buy food. What is more, she had grown up in a Christian home, where going to church twice on a Sunday was the norm. Saved at a young age, she had no gutter to grace and glory testimony to share. "What should I do Mrs. Decker? How can I help? I don't mind helping in the kitchen, or anywhere else for that matter."

Mrs Decker looked at her kindly over the laptop screen on her desk. "I have an idea. For today, you can walk around, get a feel for the place and chat with some of the women. Several of them are away, working at jobs we found for them, but there are a few around the place. Not to mention, the nursery's full."

Mrs. Decker gave her a brief tour, before introducing her to the staff, then, with a cheerful wave, she disappeared back into her office.

***

Left to her own devices in a communal lounge-like room, Jenny said a quick prayer. "Jesus, please show me how I can help these women." She looked down for a moment. There were several pairs of feet in the room, and they told her exactly what she must do.

She went quickly back to Mrs. Decker's office and told her her plan.The surprised woman was quick to round up the supplies Jenny would need, then returned with Jenny to the lounge. "Ladies, thus is Jenny. She's a qualified nail technician and pedicurist.She doesn't have her full setup here today, but will bring the tools of her trade next time." Mrs Decker smiled encouragingly at Jenny and left her alone with the women. Her experience with clients helped as she started on their feet. It would have to be a basic job this time, but she had some gorgeous smelling cream in her bag that she could spoil everyone with. It took quite some time. She chatted to each woman, putting them at ease while she got busy with the job she liked to do. Jenny also spoke simply of her faith whenever she got the chance.Emptying the water after each foot job was a chore, but she finally reached the last pair of feet, tired but happy. She worked just as carefully on the last woman's feet as she had on the others. "Why are you doing this?" The woman asked quietly, her eyes wet. I have been watching you with the others." 

"I'm doing this because Jesus sent me to do your feet. He loves you." Jenny said simply. "What is your name?" Asked Jenny as she massaged the fragrant cream into the tired feet before her. "Maria." The woman said.

"It is a beautiful name." Said Jenny. "Did you know that there is a Maria in the Bible?"

***

"Thank You Jesus." Said Jenny an hour later, as she climbed into her car. She felt closer to God than she'd ever felt before. "Thank You for reminding me that washing feet can move a heart."

The End

Afterword

Thank you so much for reading these stories, written from me to you. God bless. 💖💖💖