As an author, she focuses on Celtic and ocean themes for her mysterious, adventure-filled romances. But then, you NEVER know what might arise on the high seas…
Heidi Kortman’s published work features an eclectic mix of devotionals, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. Her subject matter ranges from science fiction to everyday life and mixes the spiritual with the practical and mundane.
Hedge of Thorns: Delayed I’m alone again, with all the ingredients I need to make a fresh batch of ink. The thorns Tumble prepared are waiting. The bobcat, I want to try drawing the bobcat kitten. Can my skills convey the impression of soft fur, taut straining muscles, its solid weight? Ink takes time: grinding
Hedge of Thorns: Departure There’s a scraping sound, then Bobby gives a couple of yelps and combines my name with an obscenity. I didn’t expect better behavior from my brother, but it’s going to cost him. I scoop part of the piled food from Bobby’s plate to Tumble’s. When the men come in, my brother
Hedge of Thorns: Crate The stars were fading when Bobby’s mules, tethered out behind the garden, chose to bray. “Shut up, stupid animals,” I said as I added fuel to the fire. Upstairs, Bobby stamped into his boots and clomped toward the ladder. He descended, stalking out the front door, and allowing that to slam
Hearts Unbroken Rockwell Chronicles 2 Only two days remain to pre-order Kathleen Friesen’s lovely story, Hearts Unbroken, Rockwell Chronicles 2. Her stories are an attention-keeping mixture of poignancy and humor, peopled by memorable characters belonging to several generations. To Logan Rockwell, Paige Donnelly is his younger sister’s flirty friend—nothing more—until he rescues her from a
Hedge of Thorns: Shifts Every coon in the county wandered past my blind complaining about its overnight furry family reunion. I surrender and get up. My striking camp noises wake Bobby, and he’s still the same grouch. I set off first, and don’t learn his decision until I hear his harmonica behind me. There’ll be
Hedge of Thorns: Harmonica By mid-afternoon, I’ve reached the meadow where I’d found the mule. Sitting on a sun-warmed rock, I eat half of my remaining biscuits and treat myself to a long drink. Before the fire, this two-track was a somewhat direct route toward my property. Even though I’d come to it by a
Hedge of Thorns: Bartering I skirt potholes as I lead the mule past a store front. We’re half way to the first intersection, when a beer-bellied man jogs out of a convenience store, and blocks my way. “What you doing with that mule?” “Bringing her back from a meadow on the other side of the
Hedge of Thorns: Charcoal Wind snapping the canvas against the poles wakes me. There’s a crick in my neck, and I taste charcoal. Charcoal. I laugh until I ache so much I can’t sit up. The inner walls of the blind, and the tents at home, are blank, and I’m camped in an endless supply
Hedge of Thorns: Wanderings The bear shambles out of the water and along the far bank as I haul my find into the shadows. There, a few moments of sawing remove branches too small to bother with. Next, I score through outer and inner bark, peeling both away from the heartwood. The medicinal strips of
Hedge of Thorns: Setting Out It’s time to lash the blind to my pack. When I’m certain it’s secure, I crouch, and shrug the pack straps over my shoulders. Stepping out the door, I survey the scorched ridge. Smoke drifts upward, but I can’t pick out open flame. My leather shirt is still draped over
