Title: MARANATHA ROAD
Word Count: 82,000
Genre: Adult Literary Word Count: 82,000
Hero: Sadie Caswell doesn't believe in heroes or heroines, but if she had to pick one, she'd say Jackie Kennedy because—even though she isn't from the South—you can tell that girl was raised right.
Pitch: After Sadie’s son died, she spurned Tinley, who was pregnant with his baby. When Sadie’s husband gets sick, she must hurry to make amends before he runs out of time to meet their grandchild.
250:
Chapter One: Tinley
If Mr. Stepp's white car comes crawling down the driveway, it'll mean they haven't found Mama and Daddy. It's dark in the old chicken shed and nobody knows where I am. When I bend down, I can see through a hole in the wood—the fig tree, the gravel driveway, the road with fields on both sides, green and slippery in the rain.
If I see Daddy's light blue truck, it's easy. They got lost or the road was washed out. Mama will shake her head and say, "I'm awful sorry that everybody was worried." They were supposed to be back for supper yesterday, and now it's almost suppertime a day later but nobody's seen them.
If no cars come down the driveway, then they're still looking—Mr. Haughtry, the man Daddy works for and who lets us stay in a trailer on his land, and Mr. Stepp, who's Mrs. Haughtry's brother. Maybe they'll keep looking after it gets dark, even though it's Sunday and they'd usually head back to church for evening service, everybody but Mr. Haughtry who says he wouldn't darken the church doorstep if somebody paid him.
Earlier, Mrs. Haughtry said I could wait up at the house with her. "But I guess you're sixteen and you can go where you please." She sighed.
The shed smells like corn or seeds, something the chickens used to eat. Who knows what might be watching me in the dark—mice scratching in the dust or bats hanging from the wooden beams.
Chapter One: Tinley
If Mr. Stepp's white car comes crawling down the driveway, it'll mean they haven't found Mama and Daddy. It's dark in the old chicken shed and nobody knows where I am. When I bend down, I can see through a hole in the wood—the fig tree, the gravel driveway, the road with fields on both sides, green and slippery in the rain.
If I see Daddy's light blue truck, it's easy. They got lost or the road was washed out. Mama will shake her head and say, "I'm awful sorry that everybody was worried." They were supposed to be back for supper yesterday, and now it's almost suppertime a day later but nobody's seen them.
If no cars come down the driveway, then they're still looking—Mr. Haughtry, the man Daddy works for and who lets us stay in a trailer on his land, and Mr. Stepp, who's Mrs. Haughtry's brother. Maybe they'll keep looking after it gets dark, even though it's Sunday and they'd usually head back to church for evening service, everybody but Mr. Haughtry who says he wouldn't darken the church doorstep if somebody paid him.
Earlier, Mrs. Haughtry said I could wait up at the house with her. "But I guess you're sixteen and you can go where you please." She sighed.
The shed smells like corn or seeds, something the chickens used to eat. Who knows what might be watching me in the dark—mice scratching in the dust or bats hanging from the wooden beams.
Trio!
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