The Heart of a Hero (29 page)

LETTER FROM LAKEWATCH

March 2013

Dear Readers,

You’re the best! Romance readers are unrivaled as fans, I think because authors
and
readers
and
the fictional characters we come to love all share the same dreams, desires, and passions. (I know I’ve said this before, but some things are worth repeating.) Real and imagined people are optimistic or pessimistic, easygoing or easily offended, heroic or cowardly—all of which are traits that can and often do get in the way of happily-ever-afters.

So for those of you who have been following the ongoing trials and tribulations of my larger-than-life and sometimes over-the-top men and women, my question is: Do you believe in the magic yet?

If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, then let me put it another way: Has anything ever happened that you couldn’t really explain but that made you stop and think: Hey,
this
could be what that crazy lady in Maine is writing about! Have you ever experienced something amazing that should have been totally improbable if not downright impossible, and found yourself running around telling everyone you know (and sometimes total strangers) about it because you want them to be utterly amazed, too? Well, that’s what I’ve been doing to you. I’ve discovered that magic really is real, and I hope to make you believe it’s real, too.

But there seems to be a problem with the way I’m going about it. Based on some of your e-mails and letters, many of you think you have to come to Maine to find all this wonderful magic I’m writing about. (And all those big strong handsome highlanders, although that’s a whole other
Letter from LakeWatch
). But I promise that you don’t have to travel anywhere, because the magic is
everywhere
. In fact, I saw another example of it just the other day you might be able to identify with; proof positive that miracles are always waiting to bless the unsuspecting.

I have two grandchildren who, at the time of this writing, are seven and five years old, boy and girl. Besides being pretty neat little miracles themselves, Alex and Abby are . . . well, let’s just say that at times they’re less than angelic. With a few years separating them and being opposite genders, they aren’t always interested in playing nicely together. But last Sunday, after everyone in my family returned to their respective homes, I realized we had all witnessed a daylong miracle.

“Did you notice,” I asked my husband as we crashed onto our recliners, utterly exhausted, “how well Alex and Abby played together today? Not one argument that turned to fisticuffs, no huge crocodile tears or even any tattling on each other. They spent a good hour of collaboration lugging monstrous rocks to the beachfront to build a castle, and actually
took turns
using the frog-catching net. Heck, they even helped each other lure those poor unsuspecting frogs with pieces of hot dog. They didn’t use the fishing poles as weapons, and they rushed to each other’s rescue when Jaden (my son’s exuberant chocolate lab) tried to climb into the kayak with whichever one of them was having a turn.” I smiled in contentment. “When was the last time we had such a picture-perfect Sunday afternoon?”

Robbie got a familiar look in his crinkled blue eyes. “The first Sunday we finally had an empty nest.”

Not that our sons moved very far. I could probably throw a rock and hit either of their homes. But Sunday family gatherings, especially once grandchildren and puppies arrived on the scene, became more a study in chaos than a Norman Rockwell painting. (Note to impending empty-nesters thinking of downsizing your homes: Don’t! You’re going to need those bedrooms for sleepovers and a
bigger
kitchen and living room and dining table, because your family is going to grow exponentially.)

Sorry, I seem to have a bad habit of digressing.

So back to the magic being everywhere and happening all the time; some might say that Alex and Abby are merely growing up, but I’m old enough to be a grandmother and I
still
torment my brothers and sister. (I do not, however, intentionally cast my fishing lure on top of theirs so they can’t catch the big fish that just swirled.)

But I think I should warn you, dear readers, that sometimes the magic makes its first appearance in what you and I might see as disasters—or setbacks, terrible timing, or just plain bad luck. Sometimes it’s only when we’re looking back at an event that we see it for the blessing it was. And sometimes several
years
pass before we can say, “Oh, I guess that was actually a
good
thing.”

In the very first book I published,
Charming the Highlander
, I originally had Podly, Grace Sutter’s beloved little satellite, crash into TarStone Mountain—which was the reason Grace was kidnapped and Greylen MacKeage had to go save her from the bad guys. But my editor was worried that crashing Podly on that particular mountain at that particular time was too convenient to be believable. So despite being confounded and more than a little dismayed, I changed the reason for the kidnapping and rewrote several scenes even though my original idea was how it really happened.

But eight years later there was Camry MacKeage, a rocket scientist like her mother, needing her very own story. How . . . covenient that dear little Podly was still quietly orbiting Earth. Thus,
A Highlander Christmas
was born, because that long-ago rewrite had kept the door open for the next generation.

Oh yeah, the magic works in many mysterious ways. But then, I suppose that’s the very definition of a miracle. What fun is there in knowing everything, anyway? Who doesn’t love wonderful surprises? Just as long as you remember that even if something first shows up as a disaster, it usually and eventually will end up a blessing in disguise.

Bad stuff happens—to you, to me, to my characters. But it really can’t be taken personally; no one or no thing is out to get us. I believe I’ve had more than one of my characters—usually one of my old and wise magic makers—mention that life is neither fair nor unfair, but simply
is
. The difference is often between letting bad stuff turn us into victims and moving through it with . . . well, with the heart of a hero.

Yes, we can be our own heroes if there’s no big strong handsome highlander rushing to our rescue. Or we can be someone else’s hero, which often requires nothing more from us than a smile, a shoulder to cry on, or a big strong hug.

There’s powerful magic in those smiles and hugs.

But best of all, they are the harbinger of hope for happily-ever-after.

We
are the magic makers.

But if you aren’t quite ready to believe me yet, don’t worry; there are many more stories rattling around in my head, just waiting to be told.

Until later from LakeWatch, you keep reading and I’ll keep writing,
Janet

Jove titles by Janet Chapman

HIGHLANDER FOR THE HOLIDAYS

SPELLBOUND FALLS

CHARMED BY HIS LOVE

COURTING CAROLINA

THE HEART OF A HERO