Since publishing the first book in the Dreamslippers Series in 2014, I've heard from many readers who are curious about Amazing Grace's back story. So with the release of the entire trilogy as a boxed set this February, I included a novella titled Work of Light. It answers these questions and more: How did Grace get her name? What happened when her daughter Mercy was born? And did Grace really go undercover inside a cult?
Here are the first few scenes from the novella. If you're hungry for more, I've made the entire story available for free to Wattpad members. You can also take advantage of the current sale on the ebook boxed set, which gives you all three novels plus the novella for only $6.99.
Work of Light
Sun Rising presided over a flock of one hundred and twenty-eight followers, with about one-third more women than men, a ratio he preferred. He believed women worked harder than men, and besides, Sun Rising really loved women.
Particularly Grace. “The strength in you flows to your loins,” he’d said once, in all seriousness, though thinking back on the comment brought an involuntary smile to Grace’s lips. She looked down at her lean, muscular loins now, swaddled in bedsheets she’d washed herself and then hung to dry on the ashram’s extensive clotheslines. They dried quickly in the blasting Arizona heat. In the cracked mirror on the opposite wall, she caught a glimpse of her tousled hair, bleached blonde in the desert sun. Like most women in the ashram, Grace was still young enough to contribute physical labor to the cause. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t taken its toll on her. She’d spent the previous day digging a trench for the new septic tank. Her hands were cracked and calloused. Her knees and back hurt. It looked as if she’d clawed dirt.
But the hard work had its benefits, too. Grace had awakened that morning from a deep sleep, blissfully free of dreams—her own or anyone else’s she might pick up with her psychic gift.
Blessed be exhaustion, she thought. All praise the dreamless night.
In the bunk beneath hers, Mercy slept soundly. A little bubble had formed on her lips, and the girl’s straw-straight hair splayed over the pillow. Grace felt a mixture of pride and something else—anxiety—well up in her. What a good helper Mercy had been yesterday, hauling away rocks as the crew worked. Grace made her stop once and chase lizards with the other kids in the cactus garden. She didn’t want the twelve-year-old to work too hard. To miss what was left of her girlhood.
The way Grace had missed hers.
She catapulted herself out of the bunk and gently woke Mercy. Once dressed in scratchy tunics, and both heads of hair wet-combed, they padded barefoot together, hand in hand, down the stone walkway to the kitchen to start breakfast.
Sun Rising was neither attractive nor unattractive. A bit bland, really. He shaved his head for effect, but also because if he let it grow, it would cover only a crescent of his dome. She could see his head’s five-o’clock shadow every evening, when he removed the turban.
That morning at breakfast, he and the other men arrived at their usual time, just as the women were laying out the meal on all the tables.
“Blessed be the bounty of our Great Spirit,” he intoned. Hands clasped hands all around the table. “All praise the work of Light.”
How devious that he consistently attributed the women’s work to that of the Spirit, Grace thought. As if some ghostly being had slaved in the kitchen for the past hour, spooning preserves into little bowls and stirring the rice cereal so it wouldn’t lump. Though she’d come to the ashram full of hope that it would live up to its promise of total egalitarianism, the ways in which it reflected the flaws of the outside world had started to rankle her.
“Amazing Grace,” he suddenly called out. It was the name she’d chosen to use in the ashram, as it was the custom to shed one’s birth name and adopt a new one. She’d never liked her birth name, anyway. Priscilla didn’t seem to fit her at all.
“Yes, Sun Rising?”
“I’ve seen how well you organized the kitchen.” He paused a moment, as if to allow her to bask in his praise. “Before you arrived, it was very inefficient, and the women working there did not enjoy it.”
This was true enough, from what Grace had heard, and looking around the room now, she caught a few nods. The women had warmed to her since she treated them with respect and allowed them to share in the decision-making. Her strong but gentle leadership had been well received. The place ran as smoothly as the grandfather clock in her parents’ house.
“I would like to engage you in a special project. Please come to my private quarters during this afternoon’s leisure time.”
This was posed not as a question but as a directive. She nodded assent.
But as she helped the other women clean up after breakfast, Grace worried that Sun Rising’s interest in her went beyond her organizational talents. It was pretty much guaranteed, since she was a woman. So how would she finagle her way out of this one?
She cast a glance at Mercy, playing now with the other preteens in a corner of the kitchen. The girl had a dish towel wrapped around her head, mimicking the style worn by Sun Rising and the upper tier of the ashram’s male leadership. Mercy placed her hand on top of another girl’s head, and the girl bowed beneath her as Mercy intoned, “All praise the work of Light.”
Grace allowed herself a sigh of relief. At least Sun Rising’s interest in the female sex did not include anyone under the age of eighteen. In fact, he seemed to prefer the more seasoned members of the ashram, which is likely why, coming up on her thirtieth birthday, she’d piqued his interest. Mercy would be safe here, safer than in the outside world. That’s partly why Grace had come...