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Alone in the world after her father's death, Jillian Cameron wed to gain protection. But hers is a marriage in name only, and one glimpse of her new servant--all.
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Excerpt: “No Stopping Us Now: The Adventures of Older Women in American History”

Sadie frowns. Youve never been to a movie? Weve never talked about this before. The whole idea of a movie theater is still new to me, and Sadies disbelief makes me feel ashamed somehow. My cheeks get hot. I bite my lip and shake my head. Its as if Ive told her we live in an igloo on Mars. I shrug. Dad says even at good movies there are adver- tisements for bad ones before it starts.

You never know whats going to pop up on the screen.

Virginia Woolf

Ive never seen a preview for a bad movie when I go to the theater. You havent? Whats it like? I ask her. Going to the movies?

Rapture in His Arms (The Virginia Brides #1) by Lynette Vinet

I nod. Sadie cocks her chin to the side and purses her lips.


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I can tell shes thinking about how to explain it to me. Well, its sort of like church, she says, only there are no windows, and instead of a pulpit at the front, there is a giant screen where they play the movie. Everybody has their own chair with a cushion on it instead of sitting on the same pew, and when they turn off the lights, it gets real darklike on Sunday nights at church when the missionaries bring slide projectors to show us pictures of the little huts where they live in Ecuador.


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Sadie smiles, like she has saved the best part for last. Plus, you can get a big Coke and a bucket of popcorn or some candy from the snack bar, she adds. This is a brilliant plan. I imagine the ushers at church putting down their offering plates and passing out buttery popcorn and cold sodas instead. Sitting through a long ser- mon would be so much easier with concessions. After dinner, I am still thinking about E. Nanny is working at the hospi- tal tonight, and Dad is helping Mom give Miriam and Josh a bath. Papa is sitting in his recliner, watching wrestling on TV and crocheting.

Im making an afghan, he says with a wheeze. His breathing is heavy. Papa smoked cigarettes for a long time until he asked Jesus into his heart a few years ago. The doc- tors say he has emphysema now. I sit down on the couch, watching Papas nimble ngers work the little hook.

22.3: To the Lighthouse

It ies in and out of the blue yarn, cre- ating delicate loops that form intricate chains, all linked together and spilling across his lap onto the parquet ooring. How did you learn to crochet? I ask. My sisters taught me, he says. When I was a little boy up in the mountains, wed get snowed in for weeks.

He pauses to catch his breath. Didnt have a TV back then. We dont usually have a TV at our house, either. Besides being a teacher at the Bible college, my dad is a minister, and every now and then hes asked to preach a sermon at different churches. Sometimes he preaches about ways we can keep our thoughts pure, like not watching television.

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We pulled the plug on our TV when Aaron was a tod- dler, Dad says from the pulpit. Sesame Street was sponsored by the letter G for Go-Go Dancer, and when my wife turned it off, Aaron cried like wed stabbed him. I always laugh along with the audience when Dad tells stories about us kids. Hes pretty funny when he preaches, but hes not joking around when it comes to TV. Last year, Dad rented a television set for several weeks at Thanksgiving time so we could all watch the holiday specials.


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  • Excerpt: “No Stopping Us Now: The Adventures of Older Women in American History”.

I wanted to watch gure skating on ABC, but Dad kept clicking back to the games. He said the female gure skaters were immod- estly dressed. I glance up from Papas afghan and see a woman wearing a bikini on the screen. She is walking around the wrestling ring in high heels. I feel a little bit guilty for staring. Dad wouldnt want me to look at her, because shes not wearing enough clothing. When there were girls on the beer commer- cials during the games, Dad would always say sick under his breath and change the channel. Papa doesnt seem to notice that the woman in the bikini is immodestly dressed.

A large man wearing tight red under- wear struts into the ring. He has dirty blond hair and yells into the microphone through a shaggy mustache. His mus- cles remind me of Randys He-Man gures, but hes differ- ent somehowsweaty, angry, loud. Something about him is scary. Id rather watch gure skating, but its summertime, so there probably isnt any to see.

I get my blue schoolbag in the corner and pull out the pot holder loom I got for Christmas last year.

Then I sit on the end of the couch closest to Papas recliner. My loom is a square, plastic frame with little pegs that stick up on all four sides. I gave Nanny the rst pot holder I made last Christmas, and she hung it up on the cabinet door because she said it was so pretty she couldnt bear to use it. Papa says I have a good eye for color. Papa and I work with our hooks while the loud men on TV toss one another across the screen. When I nish my pot holder, Papa helps me weave the edges as I slip each loop off the loom.

Will you teach me how to crochet? I ask him. I reckon, he says with a pant. Tomorrow, Ill see if I can nd another hook. He smiles at me, and I smile back. I feel like I belong, sitting here next to Papa. This is what men do togetherwatch wrestling and make things from string. Hey, Aaron. Dads voice makes me jump. He is standing in the hallway behind where Papa and I are sitting. Will you come back here a minute, please? I put down my pot holder and follow Dad back down the hall. Mom is in the back bedroom putting Josh and Miriam to bed.

Caleb is already asleep, so Dad whispers. What are you doing out there with Papa?