So Monday evening, I knew I was nearly at the end of what I'd written on Elizabeth Comes Home. I had finished typing in the dot matrix-printed pages, and had also finished transcribing three or four pages written in red ink. (Fortunately my handwriting was better twenty years ago. No idea why the ink needed to be red, though. That was rather nightmarish.)
The hero and heroine have been through some serious stuff together, have come to know and trust each other. They're in the cabin on a quiet evening, and he's been reading to her out of one of her favorite novels. He just stopped reading and closed the book.
Well! Even though this story is an inspirational, you know something's going to happen. You know there has to be a kiss. You just KNOW IT.
Okay. So you're ready, right? Here's the last line I wrote twenty years ago on this story:
She smiled, looked at him and said,
That's where it ends! And I'm thinking, COME ON! Do not leave me hanging like this! They have to kiss. They have to say they love each other. They have to continue on in this difficult life together, relying on each other and on their faith in God.
I guess somebody still has to write that part. Sheesh.