BOOK OF THE WEEK: Archives

Romance Readers Book Of The Week
August 7, 2006
ARCHIVED FEATURE

TEMPERED DREAMS
Pamela S. Thibodeaux

Genre: Inspirational "with an edge"
Format: Paperback
ISBN: 0-9769960-3-0

Buy This Book:
Available at: Amazon, Borders, ComStar, Booksamillion, Barnes and Noble

FROM THE BACK COVER:

Dr. Scott Hensley (introduced in Tempered Hearts) has built a wall around his heart since the death of his wife and parents. Katrina Simmons is recovering from scars inflicted on her as a battered wife. Can dreams be renewed and faith strengthened? Can they find joy and peace in God's love and in love for one another?

Find out in Tempered Dreams.

WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING ABOUT THIS BOOK:

The second story in Ms. Thibodeaux's Tempered series, TEMPERED DREAMS, rises far beyond my expectations and quickly became my favorite of the two!  Pamela Thibodeaux has a knack for creating warm, caring people and placing them in fascinating plots that grab your heart from the first page.   I can't wait for the third story in this series.  I am sure it will be another superb story!

 

~ Tracy Farnsworth, Reviewer for www.romrevtoday.com and  www.theromancereadersconnection.com

 

This novel of hope and healing is excellent. If you have been fortunate enough to read the prior novel, you know that Ms. Thibodeaux does not write too sweet, whitewashed Christians. Her characters are real people who have real desires and struggle with issues that any Christian in real life knows they have, but books often ignore in favor of portraying saints. I eagerly await the next in the series.

 

~Amanda Kilgore, Reviewer; MyShelf.com

 

Pamela wrote with heartfelt emotion that came through without being preachy or sappy, like some Christian romances tend to be.  I always end up cheering on the punishment of the bad guy in any story but even I learned the true meaning of God's grace and the power of forgiveness in the way Pam wrote the conclusion to this story.

 

~ Kari Thomas, Reader, Reviewer.

 

Calcasieu Parish Sheriff, Beth Lundy says of Thibodeaux’s books: “Wonderful and inspiring reads packed with biblical truths that are as timeless as the Word from which they come.”

 

Pamela Thibodeaux is known for her ability to balance the sensual elements that make up modern romance novels with the deeply felt beliefs that are an integral part of the inspirational sub-genre. This entry into her series of "Tempered" novels is a fine example of that talent. While it’s unapologetic Christian elements may be heavy going for those unfamiliar with this particular category, her story of one woman's battle for the courage to leave behind a life of pain and a man's determination to reveal the true nature of love to her is a fine tale. Fans of inspirational romance are certain to enjoy Tempered Dreams, and even those whose tastes don't run in that direction would do well to sample Ms. Thibodeaux's work.

 

~ Reviewed by Elizabeth Burton, Blue Iris Journal

MEET THE AUTHOR:

Born May 19, 1961, Pamela S Thibodeaux is a housewife, the mother of four children (two by blood and two by marriage) and grandmother of two. She currently resides in her hometown of Iowa, Louisiana (about 15 miles east of Lake Charles) with her husband Terry. Though Pam now works in Lake Charles as a Licensed Sales Producer in the Insurance industry her past work history is as colorful as her writing resume!

Leaving in March of 1978 to marry at sixteen, Pam obtained her GED from Iowa High School in April that same year. At that point-between marrying and having babies- she began her career as a bookkeeper by keeping records for her father’s construction business. Since, she has worked in professions ranging from cashier in fast food restaurants and convenience stores to a full-charge bookkeeper and tax preparer. In 1992 she earned an Associate Degree in Office Occupations, specializing in Computer Applications from Sowella Regional Technical Institute. She is also the Co-founder and a member of the Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana.

A former member of American Christian Fiction Writers (formerly ACRW), Golden Triangle Writers Guild, Coeur de Louisiane and RWA, Pam won Coeur's 1999 "Diamond In The Rough" as well as their 2000 "Ruby" Award and received her RWA Pro Pin in 2001.

Multi-published in fiction and non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as "Inspirational with an Edge!" and reviewed as "Steamier and grittier than the typical Christian without decreasing the message."

A committed Christian, she firmly believes in God and His promises. God is very real to her and she feels that people today need and want to hear more of His truths wherever they can glean them. Although her writing is Inspirational, she does her best to encourage readers to develop a personal relationship with God.

The deepest desire of her heart is to glorify God and to get His message of faith, trust and forgiveness to a hurting world. Her hope is that all of her stories will touch the lives of everyone who reads them and - in some way - bring them a truer knowledge of God and urge them into a closer walk with Him.

READ AN EXCERPT:

CHAPTER ONE

Katrina Simmons awoke with a jolt as the car she was riding in slammed into the bridge, spun twice and came to a sliding halt against the concrete. She sat a moment, stunned, her heart banging against her ribs, her breath escaping in ragged pants.

 

Thank God there was no one around. Reaching over, she shook her husband. "Jack?" He mumbled, eyes rolling languidly, and passed out.

 

Rage unlike anything she’d ever known roared through her. Fumbling with the door handle she managed to get it open and climbed shakily out of the vehicle. A groan, more anguish than pain, escaped her clenched teeth as she considered the damage to her car.

 

"Great, Jack! Just great," she raged at her husband, who reclined in a drunken stupor. "You've finally done it! You've ruined my car!" she accused, kicking the door.

 

***

 

Dr. Scott Hensley settled in for the drive to New Orleans. It wasn't a long drive, but a trip he wasn't looking forward to. Mardi Gras in New Orleans was not the place to be.

 

He slowed his vehicle and pulled over at the sight of an automobile accident. Using his mobile phone he called the police and climbed out of his car to check on the victims.
"Are you all right?" he asked, hurrying toward the young woman pacing alongside the car.

 

She whirled around with a screech, lunged through the window, and shook the driver. "You drunken idiot!" she raged, punching him soundly on the jaw. She shook him again, winced, and shoved away to continue her tirade.

 

Being a wise man, Scott stepped back from the raging female as the sound of sirens pierced the air. Showing his I. D., he talked with one of the police officers arriving on the scene while the other officer talked with the young woman.

 

"Did you see what happened?"

 

Scott shook his head. "No, I got here afterward. Looks like they hit the wall."

 

'The wall' was the center median divider on one of the longest bridges in the United States. The Achafalaya Basin Bridge was also one of the longest bridges in Louisiana and the most tedious stretch of highway between Lafayette and Baton Rouge.

 

They watched as the young woman paced, answering in monosyllables. She turned in an angry whirl, gestured wildly, then cradled her arm against her.

 

"She seems to be favoring her wrist," the officer observed.
Scott chuckled. "I'm sure it needs tending. She hit him."

 

The cop’s eyes widened. "What? Who?"

 

Scott laughed softly and shook his head. "Her husband or boyfriend, whoever is driving. When I got here, she was ranting and raving about him ruining her car. She lunged through the window, and punched him. I haven't had a chance to check on him. I doubt he's injured too badly. From what I can gather he's probably drunk."

 

"What did he do?"

 

Again Scott chuckled, feeling a tug in the region of his heart. The fiery little lady reminded him of someone he knew. Two someone’s actually, someone he loved and someone he’d lost.

 

"He just groaned and passed out," he answered, walking toward them. Scott presented his I. D. to the other officer, requesting permission to check her wrist.

 

Katrina balked at the offer. "I'm fine," she hissed, not caring about her wrist. All she wanted was for someone to drag her husband out of the car and let her loose on him!

 

Scott reached for her, turning her to face him. "Easy, Sweetheart," he said, his voice a soft drawl. "I won't hurt you."

 

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and angry, her cheeks flushed, and fainted. Scott caught her as she slumped in his arms. Picking up her small frame he held her as the ambulance that had been summoned arrived. Carrying her to them, he waited as the EMT’s opened the back and retrieved a stretcher then gently laid her there and examined her. Her wrist was broken. Other than that, she seemed to be fine.

 

Covering her with a blanket from the ambulance, Scott watched as the officers pulled the driver out of the car. Gut-wrenching fury clawed through him as they hauled the huge bulk of a man from behind the wheel. Easily as tall as he, the man was a giant compared to his tiny wife.

 

Where Scott's broad shoulders tapered down and narrowed to a slim waist and long, muscular legs, this guy was solid. His chest was easily as broad and thick as his shoulders. He had a solid middle and bulky, muscular legs and hips, the build of a football player, wrestler or body builder. From his belligerent attitude, he obviously took advantage of it.

 

“You leave me in jail, and you'll pay for it, Katrina," he hissed, slurring the words unbearably, obviously unconcerned that his wife lay passed out on a stretcher.

 

Scott turned toward her as the young woman began to moan and writhe. "My baby," she whimpered. Clutching her stomach, she curled into a tiny ball and wept as blood seeped from her body. Pulling her against his chest, Scott did his best to soothe the trembling female in his arms. As she quieted, never fully conscious, he lay her back down.

 

Walking over to the police car, he hailed the officer. "Add murder to his charges. She just miscarried," he growled, glaring at the man in cuffs.

 

It took a moment for the words to register on Jack Simmons's booze fuddled brain. He grunted. "Don't need no brats anyway," he slurred. His head rolled languidly, and he slipped into a drunken stupor once more.

 

Scott’s hands clenched into fists and for one fleeting moment he was grateful to God that he’d taken an oath to preserve life. He could easily kill the man, so obviously unconcerned with his wife and unborn child that he’d driven, drunk, with her in the car.

 

Domestic violence and child abuse were the two most hated diagnoses in the Physicians Desk Reference and Scott had seen enough to leave little doubt in his mind that she’d had little, if any, say about the situation she was in.

 

He watched in silence as the police drove off with Jack cuffed securely into the back seat, and the ambulance took her away. Turning on his c. b. radio, he communicated with the ambulance drivers and found out where they were taking her. Using his mobile phone, he put in a call to the hospital he was traveling to and bought some time. Instead of the 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. shift he’d originally been scheduled for, Scott had it switched to the opposite. Pulling in behind the ambulance he talked with the doctors and nurses on staff in the emergency room at Baton Rouge General. Then he waited.

 

Katrina swam up from the pain-induced fog to awareness. Tossing in discomfort, she opened her eyes. Surprise and shock widened them as she gazed into the soft brown eyes of a stranger.

 

Scott moved closer as she stirred. He’d been watching her for hours. The sunlight streaming in the room bounced off the red highlights in her thick, golden hair, turning it into a fiery mass. Her skin was silky smooth, the color of a sun-ripened peach and he’d wondered what color her eyes were. Probably the blue or green that usually accompanied her coloring, he thought. Hazel perhaps. Wrong. They were brown; deep, dark brown, like two huge chocolate drops in a bowl of peaches and cream. He smiled tenderly as she glanced away with a blush.

 

"Do I know you?" she queried in a timid voice.

 

"I'm Dr. Scott Hensley. I was at the accident last night. I thought you might appreciate seeing a familiar face when you woke up. Can I get you anything or call someone for you?"

 

Her lip trembled as she shook her head. "My husband?"

 

Biting back a growl, he softened his reply. "In jail, Sweetheart. That's all I know."

 

"Good," she muttered, blushing at the relief she felt and trembling with the fear. Jack had always told her that if she ever had him put in jail or left him if he got there on his own, she would pay for it. This morning she didn't care. He’d hurt her for the last time. He'd cost her the one thing she wanted most in life, her baby. The minute she got home, she was calling a lawyer.

 

Scott watched the emotions cross her lovely, fragile features and fought back the urge to take her in his arms. Professional ethics insisted he remain objective but it was difficult to adhere to ethics when a lone tear escaped from one of her tightly closed eyes to leave a trail down her silky cheek.

 

He waited and watched, his heart cringing, as she fought valiantly against the tears, and lost. Her breath began to hitch as she succumbed to the sobs wracking her small frame.

Forget ethics.

 

Sitting on the bed beside her, Scott pulled her in his arms holding her against his chest as her tears began to melt some of the icy reserve he’d built around his heart over the last several years. His fingers sank into the luxurious softness of her hair while the other hand caressed her back in a soothing manner. Silence filled the room as her sobs subsided into soft, hiccupping sounds.

 

Katrina stiffened fearfully as she realized the strength in the arms holding her; arms of a stranger, of a man other than her husband. Grinding her teeth in mortification, she pushed herself away, a hot blush warming her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, not daring to look him in the eye.

 

"It's okay, Sweetheart. I'm a doctor. I won't hurt you. Are you sure there's no one I can call for you? Your mother or some family?"

 

She shook her head. "No. No one," she admitted, knowing that her mother wouldn't be able to come even if she wanted to. Her stepfather would see to that.

 

Katrina came from a long line of abused women and, like most, ended up in a similar, if not worse, situation than those before her. But she was determined to break the pattern. Never again would she be taken advantage of by a man.

 

"Is there anything I can do?"

 

She turned away knowing her words were rude and not at all grateful for the comfort he so easily and gallantly offered. "Leave me alone."

 

Totally unprepared for that answer, Scott frowned. He’d dealt enough with grief and pain to know when a patient was talking out of emotion, lashing out. He respected that. But coming from someone so tiny, so fragile, so vulnerable, it seemed out of place. He remembered her fury the night before and bit back a grin. Maybe not.

 

"Okay," he said, brushing the thick mane of red-gold hair off her face then stood. "I need to be going, anyway." Still, he hesitated.

 

Something about her pulled at him. Maybe it was the fragile beauty, or the subtle waves of fear. Maybe it was the gentle elegance of her fine, porcelain-like features giving the impression of a china doll, or the fiery passion he had witnessed last night. He shook himself mentally; maybe he was just tired.

 

With a slight shrug he walked around the bed and toward the door. Turning, he got a glimpse of the tremble that shook her slender frame. He walked back to the bed, reaching for his wallet and pulled out a business card.

 

"Look, here's my card. If there's anything, anything at all I can do for you, please don't hesitate to call." He wrote the phone number to the hospital in New Orleans where he would be for the next couple of weeks. She remained silent as he set the card on the bedside table.

 

With another subtle caress he brushed the hair off her cheek and felt her stiffen. Of their own accord, his knuckles brushed gently across her cheek again, soothing, as he bit back words of comfort. It was evident though needed, she didn't want them. Turning quietly, he left.

 

Trina’s fingers trembled as she reached for the card. Dr. Scott Hensley. Who was he? What did he want? Was he like this with all of his patients or just the helpless females? Questions rolled around in her head and all she could do was speculate about the answers.

 

The two-hour drive to New Orleans was uneventful, giving Scott plenty of time to think about the woman he left behind. Something about her stirred memories long since buried, some better off forgotten. Unable to resist, he picked up the phone and dialed the hospital. Requesting her room, he waited for her to answer.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Mrs. Simmons..." he hesitated. What was he supposed to say? He didn't even know why he called! Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Katrina, I'm serious about what I said. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to call."

 

"Dr. Hensley," she huffed out a sigh. "I know you're aware that I'm a married woman. I don't know what you want from me, but you won't get it. I'd appreciate it if you just leave me alone."

 

Put ever so completely in his place, Scott hung up. A smile crossed his face as he thought about the defiant tone that belied the soft, sensual voice. Maybe it was time for a challenge in his life.

 

He sighed, wishing once again he were going anywhere but New Orleans and slipped a cassette in the deck. Soft, soothing notes of Jazz oozed out of the speakers as his mind roamed lazily along the path of his career.

 

The joys of being on contract with the Louisiana Charity Health Care System included traveling to different State facilities and working with various people. The disadvantage was not being able to refuse.

 

In all of his years as a physician, Scott’s one desire -the desire to help those in need- was being fulfilled in this job. He was one of the leading doctors for Louisiana's health care system; a system that served the needy. No more traveling with missionaries for him. He’d given up on that after the death of his wife and parents. This position enabled him to do some of the good he so desperately wanted to do; which was the reason he’d become a doctor in the first place.

 

Leaving his home in Texas hadn't been an easy decision, but a necessary one. Necessary for his sanity. Home was too full of memories. Memories he hadn't dragged out in a long time. Memories that surfaced now; recollections of his parents and wife, and how they’d died.

 

Scott had been on a mission in South America. His family had flown down to visit him: his mother and father always so proud, and Melissa, his wife. He’d been swept away by her passion, not seeing until it was too late that there was very little substance beneath.

 

Though not a happy marriage from the beginning, Scott did his best to adhere to his vows. Still, he was on the verge of divorce when he’d accepted the offer to go to South America. They'd come down to visit him in his second month there.

One more month and he would be home. As fate would have it, he went home a lot sooner. The plane they were traveling in was blown out of the air by terrorists. To date, their deaths were recorded as a senseless, unsolved tragedy.

 

Scott returned to Bandera, Texas to bury his family. Unable to deal with the grief, the heartache and the guilt, he sold the ranch to his friend Craig Harris, who then turned most of it into an arena and campground. The house was turned into a Bed & Breakfast, and the charity rodeo that the Rockin' H had hosted for over thirty years was now held there. The rest of the year, it was merely an extension of the Rockin' H. Guests came and went at the B & B, giving a substantial monthly income, which, at Craig's insistence, Scott retained.

 

That decision made, Scott moved on. The rest, as they say, was history. Craig and his family still remained his closest friends. Now when he returned to Bandera for a visit, it was with joy; joy tempered by memories and heartache.

 

Arriving at his destination, Scott ordered flowers to be sent to Mrs. Katrina Simmons' room then took a badly needed nap.

In the ten days to follow, there wasn't much time to dwell on the fiery little lady in Baton Rouge General. There wasn't much time to dwell on anything but the job at hand, but she was always in the back of his mind, making him smile.

 

From the weekend before to the weekend following Fat Tuesday, New Orleans was wild; parties ending in fights, fights ending in brawls, brawls ending in injury or death. It was rough, to say the least. New Orleans was notorious for its parties and passions.

 

It was a beautiful old city gracing the banks of the Mississippi river, as it had for over a hundred years. In the old days it was a port filled with the style and grace of the early French. To date it still held all the magic and beauty, with its river walk, shops and boutiques, French Market and, of course, the notorious Bourbon Street. Restaurants offered the best of French Cuisine and nightclubs offered the best in Jazz music. New Orleans was a beautiful place to visit, but Scott wouldn't want to live there, especially during Mardi Gras.

 

Scott knew that the city and its people would settle down after Fat Tuesday. Rich in tradition, they would shelter in for the Lenten season, repenting of their wicked ways and drawing closer to God. The spiritual side of New Orleans was a huge part of its charm. The people there were full of life and laughter, love and faith, but like all of God's children, they had their rebellion and tantrums. Mardi Gras was the worst.

 

* * *

 

Katrina stared at the single, rebellious rose still alive amongst the bouquet of dead flowers. The arrangement had graced her kitchen table for almost a week now. A smile curved her lip. That one rose reminded her of him: the strange doctor with his tall good looks and Texas drawl. He was stubborn, too, she thought, but it was a gentle stubbornness. Deep down Trina knew she’d never met a man like him before.

 

Taking the flower from the center of the bouquet, she placed it in a slender vase. Burying her nose in its soft fragrance she inhaled deeply, exhaled on a sigh. It was amazing that one rose spoke so boldly of life, life and hope. Especially considering the rest had long since been dead.

 

A tear rolled down her cheek and emotions swarmed through her as she faced the sad facts. There was no life in her marriage, and no hope; nothing left to cling to after nearly ten years of abuse. There was only now, her life and her future, if she wanted one; if she wanted to live long enough to have one.

 

Trina knew the facts, the statistics. Most battered women lived frightened, lonely lives, if they lived at all.

 

For some unknown reason, she had survived through the years of abuse, first as a child then as a wife. Trina found it hard to believe that it was God who looked after her, not after all she’d been through and tolerated in the name of love.

 

Despite everything, she still believed in the sanctity of marriage but what she’d lived in for the past nine and a half years wasn't a marriage. That was a truth she’d never faced until suffering the loss of her child. Trina knew what she had to do. Picking up the phone she called Legal Aide.

ROMANCE READERS CHATS WITH THE AUTHOR:

What makes Tempered Dreams different than Tempered Hearts?

Tempered Hearts was fast paced and exciting. The hero & heroine (Craig & Tamera) were young, disillusioned and plain angry in their personal lives that it took butting heads with each other and God then making peace -with each other and God- before the romance could flourish. Tempered Dreams takes place nearly 20 yrs after Tempered Hearts, so the characters are a lot more mature and stable.

What is the theme of Tempered Dreams?

Tempered Dreams tackles the tough and sadly, growing, problem of domestic violence. Katrina Simmons(the heroine) is a struggling battered wife when Dr Scott Hensley (the hero--introduced in Tempered Hearts) meets her. Instantly drawn to the little lady, he makes it his mission to save her from the abusive relationship and teach her the true meaning of love. But only God can save a wounded soul.

Why domestic violence?

My heroine came to me several years ago and I jotted down some notes and forgot about her. When I initially started writing the 'Tempered' books, there were only going to be 2 (Tempered Hearts and Tempered Fire) but as the character of Scott came to life in Tempered Hearts I knew he had to have a story and as a doctor, a mission to save lives -or in this case a life. Katrina came back to mind and the story developed from there.

What do you hope to show through your characters in Tempered Dreams?

Because forgiveness is where healing begins, I want to show the awesome healing power of God through forgiveness....accepting it, standing on it when the devil comes against you and reminds you of the sins of your past, and finally offering it.

In Tempered Hearts, Tamera had suffered abuse to some degree at the hands of her fiancé before his death, did this lead to exploring the subject more fully in Tempered Dreams?

Yes and no. Tamera was exposed in a very small degree to the horror and degradation of domestic violence, but Tamera was raised in a Christian environment. Though a struggle to overcome, she had a foundation in God through Christ that was already strong; she just had to turn back to Him instead of clinging to her anger. In Tempered Dreams, Trina has no such relationship, and as an abused wife (and child before that) she has a lot more to overcome.

What is your goal in writing about issues such as domestic violence in a fiction setting like Tempered Dreams?

My goal is to touch hearts and impact lives by ministering the Word of God through my stories. Many people will relate to Katrina even though they may not see themselves as abused. Hopefully, Tempered Dreams will speak to those people and show them the healing that can only be found through the shed blood of Jesus and a relationship with God through Him.

Do you think you've portrayed domestic violence, all of its ugliness and healing in a realistic manner in Tempered Dreams?

I think so. Elizabeth Burton of Blue Iris Journal reviewed Tempered Dreams when it was Epublished through Writer’s Exchange. In her review she said, “Ms. Thibodeaux has done her homework, and Katrina Simmons is a sharply delineated icon of all the battered women who have finally broken free of the violence only to find freedom can be even more frightening.” Her comment assures me that I’ve done a realistic job in portraying a victim. Also, in chapter three of Tempered Dreams, Trina’s ex-husband pays her a visit and we get a glimpse of the terror she’s lived all of her adult life. Though such graphic portrayal of abuse is usually frowned upon, I felt it necessary to show –not tell- the ugliness of this crime against women so that the full power of God’s healing can be just as realistic.

What do you think a reader who’ve never experienced domestic violence will get out of reading Tempered Dreams?

I believe that though one may not experience domestic violence or abuse, he or she knows someone who is a victim of this hideous problem. It is my prayer that everyone who reads Tempered Dreams will get a realistic view of domestic violence and reach out in some way to help and that they will experience a new appreciation for the blessings in their lives. I also pray that everyone who reads Tempered Dreams, Tempered Hearts or any of the Tempered books, will come into a fuller realization of the value and reality of a relationship with God through Christ.

Anything else you’d like to say?

Yes. As stated in the letter to my readers in Tempered Dreams: Abuse of any kind is a terrible thing, but to be abused and betrayed by one you’ve vowed to love ‘till death do us part’ is a difficult thing to live through much less emerge from unscathed. But there is always hope. Not the kind you find in drugs or alcohol or any other form of escapism but true hope. Hope and healing that can only be found in the shed blood of Jesus Christ.

It is my prayer that if you don’t already know Him, you’ll seek Jesus as your Lord and Savior and if you do, you’ll pursue a closer walk with Him. And remember, delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Until later, may God bless and keep you –and yours- in the palm of His loving hand!