More Than Words: Stories of Strength Read online

  As in the U.S., the Canadian statistics on domestic abuse were shocking. Each year, more than a hundred thousand Canadian children witnessed the abuse of their mothers. Worldwide, violence caused more deaths and ill health of women between the ages of fifteen and forty-four than malaria, traffic accidents and cancer combined.

  Jess, who prosecuted such cases, welcomed the reminder of the positive message that Shelternet offered to abused women and their children.

  The courage to click.

  It was a beginning.

  “Jess?”

  She realized she’d been lost in thought and smiled at O’Malley. He was a strong, intense man in a sometimes violent profession, and he loved to banter and tease and play hard—but he respected her.

  And he loved her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “More than fine.”

  He smiled. “Me, too.”

  Dear Reader,

  In writing “Close Call” and getting to know the inspiring work of Jan Richardson and Kathryn Babcock with Shelternet, I was struck by the importance of something as simple as reaching out to others. Reaching out to help—and reaching out for help.

  Shelternet provides abused women throughout Canada with a place where they can reach out anonymously, safely, for help. At Shelternet, they can find the location of the nearest shelter, information on how to form a safety plan, links to help lines and stories of other women who left abusive relationships. Shelternet also provides children and teens who’ve witnessed the abuse of their mothers with resources designed just for them.

  To reach out to women in crisis, we have only to act on our intention and desire to help, whether it’s with our time and effort or with a financial donation. I had the privilege of meeting Jan and Kathryn in person in Vancouver at the first More Than Words event. It was attended by 200 readers on a lovely evening, in a gorgeous setting, with all of us grateful that Shelternet is there when a woman reaches out for help. And I’ve no doubt I wasn’t alone in coming away determined to do more myself to reach out to help.

  For more information, please visit shelternet.ca today.

  Thank you,

  DENA WORTZEL

  THE MOTHEREAD/FATHEREAD® LITERACY PROGRAM

  More Than Words could very well describe Dena Wortzel’s beliefs about books and literacy. For Dena, books truly are more than the words on the page—they’re a way for us to learn about ourselves, and to help us develop passion and empathy. Reading has a healing quality that can transform lives and, most important for Dena, can transform families.

  Ninety million adults in the United States have limited literacy skills. Many of them are parents. Motheread/Fatheread® is a literacy program that focuses on family literacy. Established in 1987 in North Carolina by Nancye Gaj, Motheread/Fatheread® has gained national recognition for its innovation and effectiveness. Its emphasis on literacy in the context of people’s lives inspired Dena to spearhead the program in Wisconsin through the nonprofit Wisconsin Humanities Council. Motheread/Fatheread® helps parents improve their own literacy skills—and strengthen their family communication and relationships. Parents are helped to do the one thing that’s been proven to lead to children’s success in school: read with them daily.

  Dena’s own mother read to her daily. And as soon as Dena learned to read books herself, she read constantly. Dena describes herself as having been “a bookish child.” She was always sitting in a corner reading, and she’d take a duffel bag full of books on family trips. Books were definitely part of her life growing up, part of her. And they still are.

  Dena has always been strongly committed to helping people in need—to helping the poor and the powerless change their lives. She was involved in international development in third world countries, working in Sri Lanka before moving back to Wisconsin and joining the Wisconsin Humanities Council. Dena is deeply concerned with issues of social justice and people living in lesser circumstances—and she has this love of literature. It all comes together in Motheread/Fatheread®.

  Dena doesn’t divide the world into readers and nonreaders. She says it’s all about what we’ve been exposed to. One of the main ways we understand our world is through storytelling, and books are one way to access stories. People who did not grow up reading latch on to reading when the stories and the books are meaningful to their lives. And as Dena points out, the reading material in Motheread/Fatheread ® reflects what matters most in all our lives…our family relationships.

  Motheread/Fatheread® doesn’t address literacy as a skills deficit—and this is important to Dena. She emphasizes to parents in the program that they are caregivers of children and are there out of concern and love for their kids. They’d like their children to have a better time in school than they might have had.

  The act of reading together is important in itself. Dena says, “It’s a way for parents and children to spend time together and communicate about things that matter—rather than daily interactions like eat your peas. In this reading time parents and children are actually asking each other questions about what they think and feel. Parents are listening to their children.” Many parents didn’t know how to read to their kids because they were never read to as kids. Now they can sit with their children and read to them—even initiate play around the reading of books. Children and parents both benefit.

  Before her recent promotion to executive director of the Wisconsin Humanities Council, Dena taught inmates in the Wisconsin correctional system using the materials of Motheread/Fatheread®. But Dena says she learned as much from the participants as they learned from her. “It’s an extraordinary experience to meet with a group of adults, and within an hour or two of meeting, develop meaningful relationships, have meaningful conversations—connecting across vast distances of experience and speaking from the heart. They understand one another, share concern for one another—and their children—through books. It’s miraculous. Simple, yet miraculous. And it is the power of stories that has brought on this miracle. Books are the entryway.” By talking about characters and stories, the participants are identifying with the material, and identifying with each other. “Without books,” Dena says, “they just wouldn’t be having these conversations, these connections.”

  At the Wisconsin Humanities Council, Dena guides her organization’s collaborations with social service workers, librarians, teachers and others throughout the state who want to use this nationally recognized program to help families in their communities. Dena organizes the training of at least forty people a year to teach the Motheread/Fatheread® program—and those forty instructors can reach at least 800 families throughout Wisconsin annually. Many of the professionals Dena trains are swept up with the same enthusiasm she has for Motheread/Fatheread®, often saying it is the most exciting educational experience in their careers. One instructor was teaching a group of new immigrants using an African folktale about a village threatened by monsters. This opened up a discussion of what “monsters” have come into their lives—and the participants shared incredible stories of personal tragedy and strength.

  Dena’s desire to help those in need also extends to animals. She lives on a horse farm where her late husband specialized in rehabilitating horses with behavioral problems that others had given up on. Their efforts saved the lives of horses that might otherwise have been destroyed.

  Dena really feels grateful about being in the world and helping others—that she has been able to use her education and experience to better people’s lives. Motheread/Fatheread® brings together two of Dena’s passions—her love of literature and her desire to help those in need—in a way that inspires students and colleagues. Now Dena and her work with Motheread/Fatheread have become an inspiration for this book…and for others to reach out with the healing power of words.

  For more information visit: www.wisconsinhumanities.org/read/index.html or write to Motheread/Fatheread®, c/o Wisconsin Humanities Council, 222 S. Bedford St., Suite F, Madison, WI 53703-3688.

  SUSAN MALLERY
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  SUSAN MALLERY

  Susan Mallery is a New York Times bestselling author of more than ninety romances. Her combination of humor, emotion and just-plain-sexy has made her a reader favorite. Susan makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her handsome husband and possibly the world’s cutest dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Marissa Spencer liked to think she preferred quiet, average men who were kind and funny, and that she never found herself attracted to brooding hunks. But in this case, she was willing to make an exception.

  Aaron Cross had the body of a male centerfold, the face of an angel—fallen, of course—and dark eyes so filled with pain they could rip out her heart at fifty paces. Her friend Ruby would say that a man like Aaron was nothing but trouble, and in this case Marissa would have to agree. Still, she indulged herself in a look-fest while he completed his phone call.

  She’d arrived a few minutes early for their 10:00 a.m. appointment. Based on what she’d heard about the amazingly talented and reclusive Mr. Cross, she’d expected a cranky old man. Sometimes surprise was a good thing, she thought when he hung up and turned to face her.

  “Ms. Spencer,” he said as he moved toward her, holding out his hand.

  He was tall and she was a woman used to looking men in the eye. He wore his dark hair long and shaggy and walked with a grace that nearly took her breath away.

  When she shook hands with him, she felt sparks that were so predictable, she nearly giggled. Of course, she thought, holding in a grin. With Joe, the sensible guy who ran the hardware store and kept asking her out, she felt nothing. But with danger-guy, she was all aquiver. So went her life.

  “Marissa,” she said when she could catch her breath to speak. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  He glanced at her, taking in the long wool skirt, cropped jacket and boots. It might be spring in the rest of the country, but here in Wisconsin, there was still snow on the ground.

  “You said you had something unusual to discuss with me,” he said, motioning to a leather chair in the corner of his showroom.

  She’d already looked around and admired the amazing furniture he made. The hand-carved pieces were both strong and elegant. The fabrics he chose were distinctive, while much of the leather was reworked from older pieces.

  As she sank into the seat, she wished her budget allowed for this kind of indulgence. But alas, her needs were more easily met at the local thrift store.

  He perched on a stool, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze. As their eyes locked, she felt a definite shiver low in her belly. Was her attraction to this stranger really that intense, or was it just her second Danish of the morning talking back to her?

  “I’m here to beg,” Marissa said happily. “I could pretty it up for you, but that’s the unvarnished truth. I’m on the acquisitions committee for a charity auction. We’re raising money to buy books for our Motheread/Fatheread® program.”

  Aaron didn’t blink as she spoke, which made it hard for her to judge his reaction.

  “Are you horrified?” she asked.

  “I’m listening.”

  She supposed that was something.

  “I shouldn’t really be here,” she confessed with a grin. “While everyone agrees that your furniture is so amazing as to be brilliant, apparently you don’t have a reputation as a joiner.”

  “I keep to myself,” he admitted.

  “That’s what I heard. Everyone told me I was crazy to even ask, but hey, what’s the worst that could happen? You say no. Which would be sad, because the program is amazing. We’re teaching people to read—mostly parents.”

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “You can’t imagine how a person changes when he or she learns to read. There’s such pride. Watching parents read a story to their children for the first time would totally break your heart. Reading gives them a chance to participate in their children’s education—to be better parents. The purpose of the auction is to raise money to buy books.”

  The woman kept on talking. Her energy filled the showroom until Aaron half expected to see mini bolts of lightning bounce off the ceiling and walls. Most of the locals knew enough to leave him alone, but not this one. She showed no signs of stopping.

  “Who are you?” he asked, interrupting her in midsentence.

  She frowned slightly. “I told you. Marissa Spencer.”

  “Not your name. Who you are. Why are you doing this?”

  “Oh.” She shimmied a little in her seat and smiled. “I moved here about two years ago. I’m a part-time bookkeeper, part-time librarian, and I volunteer a lot.”

  “So you think you can change the world?”

  “Of course.”

  Figured. He knew the type. Those who still believed in happy endings and miracles.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, standing.

  She bounced to her feet. She was tall, blond. Pretty.

  “If this isn’t a good time, I can come back.”

  He saw it then, what he’d missed at first glance. Behind the long hair and the easy smile was a spine of steel.

  “What can I say to make you go away?” he asked.

  “Aside from a donation?”

  He nodded.

  “We could reschedule.”

  He was only a few years older than her, but he felt tired and worn by comparison.

  “You’re going to keep coming back, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, but yes. I’m determined. It’s a flaw.”

  She made the statement with a cheerfulness that told him she didn’t consider it a flaw at all. Which meant the quickest way back to his solitude was to give her what she wanted and get her out of his life.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  Her blue eyes widened. “You mean you’ll donate something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Wow. That’s great. Really. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Pick something.”

  He motioned to the contents of the showroom. She walked to a small upright chair and ran her fingers over the carved wood.

  He liked the way she took her time to study the piece. She noticed the little details and then stepped back to look at it from a distance. When she turned over the price tag, she went pale, and for a second he thought she was going to pass out.

  “Okay, then,” she said, straightening. “Maybe something smaller?”

  He realized she had no idea who he was. To her he was a local recluse who made furniture. Not a man with a waiting list a year long and thousands of people willing to pay exorbitant prices for something made by him.

  “I mean, it’s all lovely, but we’re talking a charity auction. We thought your piece would go for maybe five hundred dollars.”

  “I have some shavings out back,” he said, holding in a smile.

  She pretended to consider the possibility. “If we put them in containers, maybe. How about kindling from your workshop? I could sew up little bags and label them or something.”

  She was so earnest, he thought, amused for the first time in ages.

  “I’ll make a bookcase. It’s not the sort of work I usually do, so there’s no way to compare prices. It will be simple, but a good piece. How’s that?”

  Marissa clapped her hands together and spun in a circle. “That would be amazingly cool. I don’t know what to say.” She stopped the twirling and grinned at him. “You’ll get a letter for tax purposes, of course.”

  “I thought I might.”

  “Maybe I’ll bid on the bookcase myself.”

  He doubted that. She struck him as the type who never had two cents to rub together. No doubt she spent her spare time helping in a soup kitchen or working with sick kids at a hospital.

  “Tell me when you need it by,” he said, ready to end the conversation.

  She pulled a small notebook out of her purse and read off a date. “And then there’s the picnic next Saturd
ay.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What picnic?”

  “The one where we thank all the donors. You’ll have to come because you’re the grand prize, so to speak. The last item to be auctioned. Everyone is very excited to meet you.” She bit her lower lip. “I sort of said you would be there.”

  Events like that were his idea of pure torture. “I’m making the bookcase. Isn’t that enough?”

  She sighed. “You’d think it would be, wouldn’t you? But there will be a lot of families at the picnic. You know, people who have completed the program, along with those just starting. And lots of kids. You’re a real inspiration to them.”

  He doubted that. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”

  “Oh, sure. Lots of times. At first anyway. It means I have to keep coming back and asking.”

  Which sounded a lot like a threat to him.

  He wanted to swear. He wanted to complain he didn’t have time and, more important, didn’t want to make time. He wanted to tell her to get out of his life and never come back.

  She looked at him with her big blue eyes and trusting expression. As if she believed down to her bones that there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to go to her picnic. In the past he’d always found it easy to tell people no, but for some reason, right now he couldn’t seem to speak the word.

  “What time?” he asked.

  Marissa beamed at him. “Eleven. You don’t have to bring anything. We’re providing the food. I’m making brownies and the Main Street deli is donating sandwiches. You’ll have a great time. I can’t wait.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Her gaze slipped past him to settle on something over his shoulder. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

  He turned and saw Buddy standing in the doorway of the showroom.

  The coyote still had much of his winter coat, making him seem bigger than usual. His dark eyes never left Marissa as he sniffed the air to catch her scent.

  “A friend of yours?” she asked.

  He liked the fact she didn’t call Buddy a pet. “He hangs out around here. When he was young, he got caught in a trap. I rescued him. He healed, but he’s got a bum leg and can’t survive on his own.”