"You're right. I believe in all of those." His smile makes me think of a picnic by a cool mountain stream. Add a pinch of autumn breeze, a cup of sunshine, and a heap of potential.

When he kisses me gently, it is even better than a slice of velvet cake.

forty.

R egena Lorraine, dressed in a bulky peach-colored dress, removes her leopard-spotted glasses from her eyes. Her frame fills the doorway to the kitchen as she watches me pipe rosettes along the top of an almond cake. I've received three cake orders already this first week of November. egena Lorraine, dressed in a bulky peach-colored dress, removes her leopard-spotted glasses from her eyes. Her frame fills the doorway to the kitchen as she watches me pipe rosettes along the top of an almond cake. I've received three cake orders already this first week of November.

People have told me they picked up brochures at the Chinese restaurant and bookstore. This has to mean that the employees I handed them to are displaying them, as they said they would. Even though I'm an outsider from Georgia, I feel I've been given a chance in this little town. I know that Jonas has been instrumental in telling everyone he does business for that my cakes are the best, which means that people are ordering because of his genuine marketing skills. And who can resist Jonas when his eyes flash like headlights as he speaks of dessert?

Marble Gray did pay for her cakes, although she claimed she didn't have the exact amount on her and gave me a dollar less than the price on the brochure. I let it go. I had a feeling if I argued with her, she'd make a scene so voluminous that it would bring the Swain County police to my front door. I don't need that kind of publicity. Regena Lorraine said she was surprised Marble Gray paid anything. "That woman will steal the shirt off your back." And your underwear, I once heard.

As I notice the frosting running low, I open the refrigerator for more butter. I'll need to make more frosting. I'm grateful that not only do I have the mixer I brought from Atlanta, but that Ernest has one in this cabin, as well. On the refrigerator door is a drawing of an owl. The feathers are brown, with shades of gray at the tips. The eyes are as round as demitasse cups. If the picture could sing, I'm sure it would do so loudly and beautifully. This is a tawny owl, and although they hide, they like to be heard. Darren's name is signed in the lefthand corner. I told him he better put his name on the sheet or otherwise, since the drawing is so good, I might think Bob Timberlake drew it.

"Bob who?" he asked.

"We'll have to go to Blowing Rock one day," I said. "He has an art gallery there."

My aunt inserts a finger into the bowl of buttercream frosting, smacks her lipstick-covered mouth, and says, "Cabin is yours now, Shug."

I'm not sure I heard correctly, so I just look at her.

"You don't have to teach cooking at The Center anymore." With a jeweled hand, she reaches inside her tote bag and displays official-looking papers.

My eyes glance at the papers and then at her face. Is she serious? Or, knowing my aunt, is there a long story she needs to tell me first?

"All legal. I was at the lawyer's this morning. This is your place now. Oh, we do have to get you to sign some forms next week."

"So I fulfilled my obligation?" Over six months of grueling lessons to noisy, wild, rude, lovable children.

"Sure did." She smiles, but then shows clear shock at my next question.

"But can I still teach?" I've learned how to love those kids. I would hate to give it all up now. I know that soon they'll have outgrown middle school and graduate on to high school, but there will be others to replace them. I want to be ready for the new kids with my shiny pans and recipes for something other than white sauce.

She regains her composure, places her glasses back onto her face, uses her fingers to delicately adjust them against her nose. "Of course."

Nervously, I ask, "There's nothing that says I have to give up my classes?"

"Oh no, Shug. Besides, I don't think Miriam would want you to quit." She attempts a wink. "The kids would be sad if you left them."

Giovanni, resting at his usual spot, stretches and yawns.

I put the frosting bag on the counter and look at my aunt to ask the very thing that has been on my mind. "Do you think Grandpa knew I needed to teach so that I could change?"

"Change?"

"You know, grow up."

"You are all growed up, Shug." She smiles and turns to go, leaving the papers on the countertop. I follow her down the hallway, guessing she doesn't understand what I mean at all. But I'm wrong. As she opens the door, a blast of cool November air flows into the cabin, and Giovanni races outside to jump into a pile of brown leaves. My aunt pauses, looks at me, and says, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

I nod. I think of the words my grandfather penned in his letter to me. "Life is never as we expect it."

"I suppose Ernest's plans, mixed with God's, all came about to teach you wonderful things." She lifts a strand of gray hair from her eyes, considers saying something else, hesitates, and then says, "Ernest was fond of you."

"Really?"

"You and he are more alike than you realize. He saw something in you, something that clicked with him."

My face must have its bewildered look because she clarifies with, "Shug, he knew. He asked for my advice, and I gave it. I told him that I was sure you would appreciate a cabin in these parts. But he wanted you to not just get the cabin and stay holed up in it. He wanted you to receive something and to have to give something of yourself. Receiving and giving, isn't that what it's all about?" She smiles.

"Receive... and give... ?"

Fingering her sentimental silver ring from her mother, she explains. "Did I ever tell you about the time I wanted a bunny rabbit?"

Without waiting for my reply, Regena Lorraine excitedly dives into her story. "Ernest made me work for it. I begged for a bunny, in spite of the fact that he told me caring for a pet takes a lot of work. He went on and on about how I would have to clean up after it and feed it and be responsible enough to keep it out of Mrs. McGullery's flower garden. I said that I could do all that. That's when he looked me in the eye and said that I had to help the Kinston twins with their math. They weren't very smart, oh no. They weren't the brightest bulbs in the county. But I could teach fractions pretty well." She smiles as though reflecting on a chalkboard filled with one-thirds and three-fourths.

"Did you ever get the rabbit?"

Mischievously, she smiles. "I did. I named her Huckleberry Finn, even though she was female. To everyone's surprise, those Kinston twins passed fifth-grade math." After a moment she says, "I learned patience and how good things take time. Ernest says the twins benefited from my teaching. I gave to them, and they gave to me."

At that, Giovanni pauses from his romping and barks. It is a sweet reaction, and mixes well with the faint scent of my aunt's perfume.

From her truck, Regena Lorraine takes a spiral-shaped brown piece of pottery with two large dots on one side. "Here you are, Shug." She places this object in my hands. "Sorry it took me so long." Then she opens the passenger door and Giovanni leaps inside. She lowers the window, and his nose twitches with pleasure as his mouth produces a bubble of drool.

"Going to play Clue," she says to me with a wave. "I hope I win something good tonight. I could use another measuring cup. My glass one broke this morning."

After the truck edges out of the driveway and starts down the narrow sloping road, I look at what I've been given. The dots are eyes, part of a face-the face of a raccoon. The pink lips are faded, as though the bowl has been used and washed many times. So this is the famous raccoon bowl. I wonder what peanut soup tastes like from this silly container. I recall the story Regena Lorraine told me about the raccoons attacking my grandpa as he tried to get into the cabin. My aunt still laughs at the memory. Is that what this bowl is about? Being able to laugh at certain memories? Then eat hot soup from it? I think being able to fully taste all the flavors comes with experiencing all of life. Grabbing it by the reins and feeling it pulsate in your heart, in your mind, and in your hands.

Sometimes truly living comes in the least expected or wanted circumstances. Like having to teach middle-school children. Then, before you know it, you have been transformed and you want want to be with them, you to be with them, you want want to reach them. to reach them.

The rust-colored cabin forms a bold and happy presence on the edge of this mountain. To the right of the driveway, the pile of leaves I raked yesterday is no longer a mound, thanks to my aunt's mutt. It doesn't matter. In fact, piles of leaves must be for jumping in-why else would they make such a nice crunching sound? With the raccoon bowl in one hand, I leap into the scattered pile. There is nothing wrong, I tell myself as I lose my balance and land on my bottom, with acting like you're five again. Smiling into the pale blue sky, I note how the clouds look like creamy vanilla pudding.

There will be plenty of opportunities in the days to come to rake leaves in my my yard by yard by my my cabin. cabin.

Right now I have cake orders to fill.

And after that, a date to get ready for. Zack and I have been invited to Burger King for dinner and then to McDonald's for dessert. The kids are all going to meet us there. They claim I need to expand my horizons.

Sometimes that's just what the recipe calls for.

Chef B's Crispy Potatoes 6 baking potatoes (Yukon Gold potatoes are tasty) cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 tsp cayenne pepper 3 tsp garlic salt Salt Pepper

Peel the potatoes. Cut them into wedges 2 inches wide and about 3 inches long. Place the potatoes in a bowl of cold salted water for an hour. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Drain the potatoes and pat with paper towels. Coat them with olive oil. Add the cayenne pepper, garlic salt, and pepper and salt to taste. Spread the mixture on greased baking sheets. Bake for 15 minutes and turn the potatoes with a spatula. Bake for 15 more minutes or until light brown and crispy. Serve to any hungry middle-school group or gathering.

Jonas's Favorite White Velvet Cake 4 large egg whites 1 cup milk 3 tsp vanilla 3 cups sifted white flour 1 cups sugar 1 T plus 1 tsp baking 1 T plus 1 tsp baking powder tsp salt 12 T softened butter

Mix the egg whites, cup of milk, and vanilla in a small bowl. In a mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients and blend on low. Add the softened butter and the rest of the milk. Mix on medium speed for 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides and continue to beat. Add the egg mixture a little at a time. Mix for 30 seconds after each addition. Pour batter into two greased 9-inch pans. Bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean. Let cakes cool in pans for 10 minutes and then loosen the sides with a metal spatula. Invert onto wire racks to cool completely before frosting with buttercream icing.

questions for conversation 1. Have you ever wanted to leave a location and start over? If so, why? Where did you imagine you would go? If you have ever made a big move, did it solve any problems? Did it give you a new perspective?

2. Deena falls into the trap of focusing on outward appearances. Do you have any imperfections you try to hide? Have you ever wished you looked like someone else? Why do you think society places so much emphasis on people's outward appearance?

3. In an uncomfortable situation, Deena resorts to the familiar. Can you understand her need to make a velvet cake after her first day of teaching? Do you ever feel like you have to prove to yourself you still have what it takes when things don't go your way? What helps you feel better after a difficult day?

4. How does Deena handle the story of what has happened to Darren? Do you think her reaction is appropriate? Has child abuse impacted your life in any way?

5. Have you ever inherited something, big or small? What was it? Were you surprised to receive it? Did it affect the way you thought about the person who left it to you?

6. What did you think of Jonas? Do you know anyone like him? What was your favorite piece of "Jonas wisdom"?

7. A major theme of this novel is recognizing the need to forgive-and then following through. Have you ever found it difficult to forgive someone? Why are some people easier to forgive than others? Do you ever have trouble forgiving yourself?

8. Grandpa Ernest thought a lot of his granddaughter. Why do you think he left the cabin to Deena? Why did he ask that she teach at The Center? What did Deena learn from Charlotte, Darren, and the rest of the kids? If you were assigned to teach a group of middle-school students, would you welcome or dread the experience?

9. How has Deena's mother influenced the way Deena has turned out? What do you think Deena's personality was like before she met Lucas? Is Lucas really to blame for Deena's problems?

10. What did you think of Regena Lorraine, Marble Gray, and Chef B? What parts did they play in Deena's recovery?

11. Are Deena and Zack a good match? Do you see a future for them? Do you think Deena will stay in Bryson City?

12. What's your favorite kind of cake? What are your favorite foods? Do you have any kitchen utensils or other objects you treasure because of how you received them?

acknowledgments.

To my dear friends at Blacknall Memorial Presbyterian Church, gratitude is not enough. You have supported Rain Song Rain Song in so many ways, and I know you will do the same for this second novel. in so many ways, and I know you will do the same for this second novel.

To the great team at Bethany House, to my Cary writers' group, to my agent, and to all the readers and enthusiasts of Rain Song Rain Song, I am amazed, humbled, and grateful.

To Mom and Dad, thanks for believing in me even when my stories were juvenile.

To the Wisler children-Rachel, Benjamin, and Elizabeth- I'm proud of you, just as you are proud of me.

And to my New York Carl, who has proven that no one should be overlooked as a book consumer, a special thanks for your wisdom, dedication, vanilla lattes, beef stroganoff, and lemon crepes. Clearly, food is the way to a woman's heart, and you have mine.

about the author.

Alice J. Wisler was only eight when she mixed up Japanese seaweed, Rice Krispies, milk, salt, pepper, and sugar in an aluminum tin and baked it for her five-year-old brother, Vince. From then on, her cooking could only improve. When her children were small, she ran a cake business from her home. After the death of her four-year-old son, Daniel, she compiled two cookbooks in his memory- was only eight when she mixed up Japanese seaweed, Rice Krispies, milk, salt, pepper, and sugar in an aluminum tin and baked it for her five-year-old brother, Vince. From then on, her cooking could only improve. When her children were small, she ran a cake business from her home. After the death of her four-year-old son, Daniel, she compiled two cookbooks in his memory-Slices of Sunlight and and Down the Cereal Aisle Down the Cereal Aisle. After graduating from Eastern Mennonite University with a degree in social work, Alice worked in a group home outside of Philadelphia for emotionally challenged children. She later taught English-as-a-Second Language in a refugee camp in the Philippines and at a church school in her birthland of Japan. At her "Writing the Heartache" workshops, she eagerly shares the value of writing through pain. Alice lives with her three children and one pet beagle in Durham, North Carolina. Visit her Web site at www.alicewisler.com.

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Alice J. Wisler

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