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Back A Penny for Your Thoughts Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. A PENNY
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
  60. About the Author
  61. Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
  62. About the Publisher

I reached up and massaged my scalp. Letting my hair loose, I shook it out and then caught my breath. My dream. In my dream, I had taken down my hair from a ponytail, shaking it slowly while Bryan watched from the doorway. He had loved my long hair, had loved running his fingers through it. In the dream, he had come to me and taken my hand, pulling me outside into the dark night to look at the stars.

It seemed so real.

I stood and went to the bureau, reaching for a brush, stroking it through my hair vigorously. I hadn’t dreamed about Bryan in a long, long time. Why now did this have to happen, this awakening of my memories, this eclipsing of time?

My heart pounded with the memory of the dream. It had been this way in the beginning, in the weeks after his death when all I’d wanted to do was to sleep, to hide, to disappear. Bryan came to me in my dreams sometimes, and I had spent those early days in a tranquilized stupor, waiting for the sleeping visions where he was still alive and life was back to normal.

In the years since, of course, I had moved past all of that, and in fact most dreams of him these days were almost always odd, disjointed, and blurry. Yet the dream I’d had this time was as clear and memorable as in the early days, as if he had really come to me, as if it really happened. Please, Lord, I prayed, why this? Why now?

I put down the hairbrush, turned on the lamp, and retrieved my Bible from the bedside table. It isn’t fair, my mind cried as I flipped through the pages for some sort of verse, some sort of message to comfort me.

There was solace there, but I was too agitated to find it, and finally I set the book aside and got down on my knees, pleading with God to heal my aching heart. How could a wound tear open after three years, a wound as fresh and painful as it had been that first day? I want my husband back! I want Bryan in my life again, as alive and real and happy as he was in my dream.

My plea felt unheard, though I knew it wasn’t. In the end, I simply recited the Lord’s prayer, letting its familiar rhythm soothe my aching heart. Once my prayer was over, I wiped the tears from my face and stood, going over to the window and gazing out across the wide expanse of lawn. It was a beautiful night, crisp and clear.