📖First Chapter: Raising the Dead by Jayne Lisbeth #firstchapter

Title: Raising the Dead

Author: Jayne Lisbeth

Publisher: Austin Macauley, U.K.

Publication Date: August 15, 2023

Pages: 330

Genre: Paranormal Fiction / Supernatural / Mystery

A naive 20-year old bride, Emeline,  is grief stricken after the deaths of her beloved parents. She believes she has made a grave error in moving with her husband 3000 miles from her beloved California Delta childhood home to Charles Town, Virginia, to be closer to her husband, Randy’s,  mother. Emeline is bereft in sorrow, marooned in grief until a mysterious woman, Felicity,  wanders into her life and changes her world forever.  When Felicity disappears as mysteriously as she arrived, Emeline is determined to unearth her older friend’s whereabouts. What she ultimately discovers forces her to question her sanity, world, memories and newfound joys.

REVIEWS OF RAISING THE DEAD

Author: Jayne Lisbeth, Cover Artist: Tim Gibbons

Publisher Austin Macauley: “Raising the Dead is a deep and emotional account of Emeline’s introspective journey, with a wholesome, spiritual supernatural angle. An inspirational, assured novel that is sure to resonate with the target audience. The poignant plot, very well-structured, the assured writing style and the events that unfold unveil a strong narrative arc Ultimately, it is thought to be a worthy addition to the genre, sure to appeal to a wide audience.”

Mary Lea McKennan, Idaho: 5 Stars:

“I just now finished the final pages of Raising the Dead!!  ‘Awww’, is what I said aloud along with shedding a few precious tears of joy! The characters within this book have rekindled the love in my heart for all of my own friends and family, current and past, who are there to guide us and teach us throughout our lives. You’ve done a wonderful job of weaving the ups and downs of everyday life into a heartwarming tale that will strengthen all who read it.”

Roberta Flowers Dillman, St. Petersburg, FL: 5 Stars:

“Raising the Dead is like a delicious layered dessert. Just when you think you got to the best part you turn the page to a more delightful part. I loved this journey and I love a deep read that’s easy to read. Raising the Dead is both. Great work, Jayne.”

Howard Gordon, Eugene, Oregon, 5 Stars: “Blew me away”

“This book was given to me by a friend and when I began reading my first impression was that it was too descriptive. Details, details, details. As I continued to read I found that these details as the story goes on formed a basis for an intriguing story of thoughtful and surprising characters. It turns out that I couldn’t put the book down.  I was bounced from sadness to joy to wonder at the author’s use of words and changes of mood. I was then flummoxed by the addition of a second story contained within the book which made everything crystal clear. I had read Ms. Lisbeth’s previous book, Writing in Wet Cement, and this one convinced me that there is an upcoming bestseller in the future.”

Paula Stahel, Breath and Shadows Productions, Tampa, FL

“A Lovely Read“”  Jayne Lisbeth has conjured a sweet story of a young, naive newlywed whose world opens to new ideas, skills, and the discovery of fulfilling friendships after an unexpected mentor literally walks into her life. And ultimately comes to understand the lasting power of love.”

Click here to read more reviews.

Visit Amazon to find out more -> https://t.ly/vRpdx.

 First Chapter:

One hundred and fifty-five years after Mildred Hanson’s death, Randy Upswatch carried his bride, Emeline Jannison Upswatch, across the threshold of Cabin #25. Randy gently set Emeline down on the heart pine kitchen floor. The windows let in bright splashes of the morning light through the wavy old glass. An antique black wood stove squatted in a corner, next to a small fireplace with an open hearth. The original porcelain sink had been retained but over the years the plumbing had been modernized. Across the room, an old gas stove nestled adjacent to a vintage Frigidaire. A scarred wood plank shelf was built into the wall between the stove and refrigerator, with drawers installed beneath. Knotty pine cabinets and shelves provided plenty of room for Em’s collection of antique bowls and pitchers. Next to the fireplace, a pantry with floor to ceiling shelves completed the kitchen, empty storage begging to be filled.

Emeline’s heart lifted, then sank, when she remembered the days she and her mama, Cleo, had filled their own pantry shelves. Mother and daughter would process their Sacramento Delta crops into jeweled jars of vegetables, relishes, jams, pickles and chutneys. Her eyes teared up, which she quickly hid from Randy. She scolded herself. Damn, girl, it’s been two years since Mama’s passing…[TG1] isn’t it time for you to move on? She thought to herself.

“Sure, wish I’d paid more attention to Mama’s cooking,” she said aloud.

“What?” Randy asked.

“Oh! I didn’t realize I said that out loud. Just thinking that Mama always needed my help with jamming and canning, but never taught me to cook. She really wanted her kitchen all to herself.”

But Randy didn’t hear this response as he was busily exploring the rest of the cabin. “Holy Shit, Em, lookit this!” he exclaimed. Emeline followed Randy down a central hallway leading to other rooms. At one end of the central hall was a large bedroom. Windows sparkled as lacy light fell through the trees surrounding the cabin. A smaller bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway seemed forlorn. A large tree shadowed the room, darkening the interior. In the center of the hallway and next to the kitchen was a small bathroom boasting an enormous clawfoot tub. A window over the tub with a deep sill would be perfect for African Violets and geraniums, Em thought.

Off the center of the long hallway was the living room. It was just big enough to hold their old couch, her mama’s ancient Lincoln rocker, and two end tables. An old black stove, sitting on a raised platform of bricks was nestled in a corner of the room. At the far end of the room were glass French doors, obviously an addition to the original structure of the cabin. Throughout the cabin, light scattered through many antique windows. Emeline pushed Randy aside and walked through the French doors. “Randy, it’s the best part of the cabin!”

Through the doorway, she had spied bookshelves. Views of the surrounding pastures were idyllic portraits framed in the old windows. Directly in the center of the room was another door to a back garden. It would be perfect for cross ventilation when both the kitchen and library doors were opened. Wildflowers of all colors were woven into the bucolic pasture in the distance. The flowers gently danced in the spring breezes from the surrounding hill, transporting the outside world into this inner sanctum. Shadows from a large willow tree quivered as the tree shook its slender green leaves on delicate branches, nearly touching the ground. Em was reminded of children around a maypole, all wearing long green dresses. “Oh, Randy, there’s a window seat!”

The cozy seat under the large window was laced between the bookshelves. A stone fireplace beckoned in the corner. Em lifted the lid of the window seat and a smoky scent of old fires wafted up to her. It was the most peaceful room in the cabin, exuding warmth and history. Em imagined the hours other occupants had sat on this window seat, immersed in a book. She walked to the door. “Randy! It’s a Dutch door!”

“A what?”

“A Dutch door, see, the top and bottom open separately. We can just open the top and get the breezes and leave the bottom latched. Oh, I’ve always wanted a Dutch door!”

Em turned to Randy and enveloped him in her arms. “It’s a perfect home for us. It’s beautiful. This room is where I bet I’ll be spending my time. It’s the jewel of the cabin. What a special place. It’s a library, Randy.”

“Oh, yeah. My mom told me the lady who built all these cabins insisted her people led educated lives. She had a little school where she taught the kids how to read. Imagine that, teaching slaves to read, even giving them places like this to live. Mom said everybody in the town thought the old lady was nuts. They couldn’t stand the way she treated her slaves. She didn’t even call them slaves! She actually paid them, as her ’employees’. That was 200 years ago. Things have certainly changed since then,” Em said thoughtfully.

Emeline felt as though she were in the middle of a pumpkin with the cabin’s knotty pine walls, the colors of burnt sienna and sunsets. She felt the rooms had been warmed by years of sunlight, woodsmoke and the fingertips of many inhabitants, completing the warm embrace of each room.

Emeline caressed the beautiful wood paneling as she returned to the living room where Randy stood next to the small Franklin stove. “I had no idea these cabins were so lovely. Mom just said they were old. She didn’t tell me anything about what great shape they’re in.” The glow on his face helped to light up the room.

“We should set up our bed and try it out in our new home, don’t you think?” Randy said with a bright smile.

Em’s mind was elsewhere, busy with all she would do to make their new home a nest she could feather with her dreams.

They returned to a slower examination of all the rooms. The antique pine floors creaked beneath their feet. In her mind’s eye, Em began placing their furniture in each room.

She lingered in the smaller of the two bedrooms as Randy left to retrieve boxes from their U-Haul. The entire cabin was infused with rainbows of light except for this small room at the end of the hallway. This room was darker, more somber. An enormous tree towered above this end of the cabin, blocking out the sunlight. The room seemed more silent than the others, with their creaking floors and squeaks. This room had a sad, lonely, uninhabited feel to it.

Randy returned to the kitchen depositing the first box marked ‘kitchen, fragile’ onto the wide wood counter. Their cats, Scarlett and Rhett, wandered into the kitchen after bursting from the cab of the U-Haul. Their feline family consisted of two calico cats, Rhett and Scarlet, sisters from the same litter. The two had been patient throughout the trip. Now they were anxious to be released after ten days of travel and being locked up in hotel rooms and the cab of the U-Haul. Cautiously, they examined and sniffed the corners of every room.

“Em? Em?” No reply greeted Randy. He found her in the small bedroom, rapt in thought. She wore that haunted look of sorrow he knew all too well. A flame of anger and resentment flared in Randy’s mind which he quickly extinguished. He wrapped Emeline in an enormous hug, rocking her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You’re dead tired. Why don’t I find your box of lady things and draw you a nice bubble bath in that big clawfoot tub?”

Em laughed. “You mean that tub that takes up half of our tiny bathroom? I love the old bricks under the tub and the little window over it. And the toilet! I haven’t seen a pull chain toilet like that one since the Ryde Hotel.”

Randy laughed. “Well, who cares if the bathroom is small, at least it’s inside! It was probably part of the pantry off the kitchen before they had indoor plumbing.”

Em wobbled in Randy’s arms. “I am tired. Over 2800 miles from Little Holland City to Charles Town was a long trek.”

“Yeah, but it was fun, too, wasn’t it? Traveling from California to Virginia, seeing the country. How many people do you know who have done that?” Emeline saw the hope in Randy’s eyes and crushed her rising fear and homesick sorrow.

“You’re right, sweetheart. It was a good trip. The last part though, driving up this rutted washboard road nearly jolted the teeth out of my head!”

Em tried to smile with reassurance she did not feel. Every part of the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, where she had grown up, was gone; except for her memories. She felt as though she had died and been buried along with her mama and papa in the Sailor’s Last Delight graveyard. She hoped the geraniums she had planted on Mama and Papa’s graves would survive. It was well over two weeks since she had planted them. She felt dead, unknown, a stranger to all but Randy. An orphan, a motherless, fatherless child with no identity. It was a feeling she had been unable to escape since her mama’s death, two years after Papa’s. Her two brothers, David and Alexander, many years older than Em, seemed part of another family. She rarely saw them. They were busy with their separate lives and families in San Francisco and San Jose. She had no one. Only Randy.

Why had Emeline not argued more forcefully to remain in California? Why had she turned her back so completely on their delta home and everything she knew? She had loved growing up there, with all the vicissitudes, contentment, flooding and hazards to crops. Even the worst days held a beauty she missed. It had been the only home she had ever known. She had obediently agreed to all of Randy’s and his mother’s plans. She was nothing more than flotsam, floating along on the river of their lives and expectations. She drifted along, with no interest, purpose or meaning. She thought leaving the delta would also leave her grief behind. She had wanted a happy, fresh new life but had brought all her old sorrows with her. She shook the depressing thoughts out of her head. This is a new beginning she admonished herself.

“Hey, tell you what,” said Randy. “Just help me with the bed and mattress and I’ll set it up in our bedroom. Then you get in the tub and we’ll take a nap after you soak a bit.”

“Oh, yes. Mama and Papa’s bed will fit perfectly in our new bedroom. We can put it against the wall across from those big windows.”

An hour later, chin deep in bubbles, Em examined their new life. Tonight, she would meet Randy’s mother, Margret for the first time. Randy was her only child, and she doted on him. Margret’s loneliness and her aging had been the impetus for their move to this little community outside of Charles Town. That, and Randy’s inability to make a decent living selling cars in the large and competitive California markets. His attitude toward authority and his arrogance toward customers had been his downfall, yet again.

Em scanned the little bathroom as the lavender scented water rose around her in waves each time she moved. She listened to Randy’s grunts and exasperated curses as he continued to unload the truck. She hoped he wouldn’t break any of her irreplaceable heirlooms or antique dishes.

The cabin was immaculate. Every necessity had been overseen by Margret prior to their arrival. The electricity, phone and water had all been turned on. All appliances had been checked for flaws and were found to be in good shape, despite their age. Margret had even stocked the old Frigidaire with milk, butter and eggs. A loaf of local bread sat on the kitchen counter along with a basket of fruit. Her mother-in-law had even put a few cans of soup in the kitchen cupboard. She had thought of everything. Em would let her know how grateful she was when they had dinner with her this evening. As though her thoughts had been transported to Margret the phone rang shrilly in the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom.” Em heard Randy say, “Everything is great. We can’t thank you enough.” A pause, then his voice, slightly irritated.

“Yes, Mother. We’ll see you around five. I’m just setting up our bed now.”

Another pause. “No, Mother. Emeline’s in the tub right now. You’ll see her tonight. There’s no need for you to come by now.”

Another pause, then a grunt. “She’s tired, Mom. It’s been a long trip and her first time anywhere but the delta. I made her relax in a hot bubble bath. There’s not that much to unload, after all. We don’t have a whole lot of furniture.”

Em could imagine the other side of the conversation before she heard Randy’s reply. “No, honestly, we have all we need. The tiger oak kitchen table, kitchen chairs, our bed, a couple of dressers, the old couch and rocker. We don’t need anything else. We only brought what Emeline couldn’t bear to leave behind. No, please, don’t send your gardener over to help unload. You’ve done so much already. You’ve been so thoughtful, taking care of all the necessities.”

Another pause from Randy. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Yeah, see you around five.”

Just then Rhett and Scarlett entered the bathroom cautiously, tails uplifted, paws tentatively touching the old floorboards. “Well, hey, you two, what do you think of our new home?” Em said. Scarlett mewed sweetly as Rhett flopped down in a puddle of light and began to carefully clean each delicate paw.

“Hey, outta my way you two idiots,” said Randy, bringing in a large box of towels along with more of Em’s ‘lady things’. “I put your suitcase in the bedroom,” he said as he sat on the edge of the tub, swishing his fingers in the water, then rubbing his hands over Em’s generous breasts.

“Hey, cut it out. We’ve got work to do,” Em said, with laughter in her voice. He continued to dally with Em, breathing in the scent of lavender and that other special Emeline scent. Her damp blond hair settled in curls around her heart shaped face, her long hair off her neck and pinned to the top of her head.

Em smiled provocatively at Randy. “This is heavenly. This tub is big enough for the two of us, you know.”

Randy reminded Em of her own admonishment. “You’re the one who said we had so much to do. Besides, you know I don’t like to sit in a tub. First thing I want to do is rig up a shower. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Em bit her lip, then sank beneath the bubbles, only her blonde curls showing above the scented water. She was aware of Randy’s lack of plumbing expertise. They didn’t have the money to hire a real plumber to fix whatever her husband might break. Randy stood up and stretched, then put a big fluffy towel on the sink next to the tub. Em would have to allay his plumbing plans by insisting they share a candle-lit bath together. She smiled at her planned seduction, anticipating his learning the finer art of bathing.

Em breathed in the scent of fresh towels. “Smells like the delta, doesn’t it? Remember how pretty our farm was?” The look that Randy dreaded returned to her eyes.

“It’s going to be alright, Em. I promise. This is a new life for us. This was a good move. We’ll be happy here, you’ll see.” He stepped over the cats and left the little bathroom to retrieve more boxes from the truck.

At the moment, the large obstacle in his mind was not just Em’s continuing sorrow and lack of enthusiasm, but her meeting with Margret. He knew his mother could be difficult and her overwhelming love of Randy could be territorial. Randy hoped his mom would see past Em’s timidity which could make her seem standoffish and cold. He hoped his mom wouldn’t take Em’s timidity the wrong way. On the other hand, he hoped Em wouldn’t blow up over some off-hand innocent remark his mom might make. He had a vague feeling of unease, knowing the two most important women in his life could change in a heartbeat from sweet to sour. He wanted everyone to see Em the way he did: his pretty little bride of two years, with blond curls, violet eyes, curvy body and sweet demeanor. He wished Em could see the good in herself, the essence of who she was, rather than the ignorant delta girl she believed herself to be.

This is a good move, definitely, he reminded himself with each box he unloaded. What could go wrong? They had everything they needed. They had each other. The future looked as bright as any dream he had hoped for in his life with Emeline.

About the Author:

Jayne Lisbeth was born in NYC and continued her life’s journey from Long Island, to New Jersey, Massachusetts, Vermont, California and Tampa, all places featured prominently in her writing.  Her first book, a memoir, Writing In Wet Cement has been published internationally by London based publisher, Austin Macauley. Jayne’s second book, Raising the Dead, a work of historical fiction, mystery, friendship and the supernatural, was published in 2023, also by Austin Macauley.  Ms. Lisbeth publishes monthly “Food for Thought” blogs on her website, Jaynelisbeth.com. Her “Food for Thought” blogs are based on her reflections of  life, friendship, love, and topical subjects of interest. Ms. Lisbeth’s non-fiction, poetry, and short stories have been published from Vermont to California to Tampa, Florida where she has received awards at the local level. She has been published locally in Pages of Our Life, volumes I and II which is currently part of the USF, Tampa, Geriartic Studies Programs. Ms. Lisbeth’s short stories have been published in the LEC Phoenix Anthologies, 2015-2023. Jayne’s interests include writing, reading, exploring, traveling, calligraphy, gravestone rubbing, entertaining and cooking.  Jayne’s author’s website is Jaynelisbeth.com.

Ms. Lisbeth and her artist husband, Tim Gibbons, are the owners and founders of Funky As A Monkey Art Studio, providing art in public places and launching new and emerging artists in exhibiting their art.

Author Links  

Website | Amazon Website | Publisher’s Website | Facebook | Instagram Booksigning Event at The Corner Club

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