Lavender Fields

Wikimedia Commons" href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AJP_Hokkaido_Furano_lavender.jpg">

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about a return trip to Japan. My mother is almost eighty years old, and she would like to see her sisters and brother once more. She can't travel by herself, so I usually travel with her. Mom is from the main island of Honshu, not far from Yokohama and Mt. Fuji. The few times I've gone to Japan, we stayed with my mother's family.

We've never had any contact with my father's side. Dad's father came from Sendai, which was ravaged by an earthquake, a tsunami, and a nuclear disaster in 2011. Since we don't even know any of dad's relatives' names, I have no way to find out if they even survived. Dad's mother came from the island of Hokkaido, to the far north. Though it's roughly on the same latitude as New York, its terrain and lack of metropolitan areas are reminiscent of Alaska.

Hiro, my main character in The Samurai's Garden, is from Tokyo, but when his time as a samurai is done he travels north, to the island of Hokkaido. There are some large flower farms on the island like the one above, and this inspired my samurai hero's passion for flowers. My father's mother came from that Hokkaido, and she used to tell me stories about what it was like when she grew up in rural Japan during the early part of the twentieth century.

I've never been to Hokkaido, but I hope to visit one day. Maybe I can see a farm like this. And maybe I'll find a connection to my dad's side of the family.

Going Viral

I get most of my news online, and often find myself watching videos of interesting news items, cute kids, and amazing stunts. And now authors are promoting their books using book trailers. Some of my computer savvy author friends do their own, and I suppose if I spent enough time at it, I could probably figure out how to produce a very plain, basic one. Fortunately, my publisher, Astraea Press, has a fabulous review coordinator who not only stays on top of sending out our books to reviewers and then notifying us when the reviews come out, she also creates wonderful book trailers for us if we ask. So I asked her to make one for The Samurai's Garden. I just got the finished version today, and I am so thrilled! Here it is—hope you enjoy!

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! Last week we met one of the new samurai Hiro had recruited to help fight against the ronin. This sample picks up where last week's excerpt ended:

****

"Hanako-san."

She nearly dropped the long wooden chopsticks she used to stir her concoction. "Nakamura-san, forgive me," she cried, quickly turning to bow to her esteemed neighbor.

"Please do not stop your work. I was passing by on the way to the village, and the wonderful aroma from your new home enticed me to investigate."

"Thank you. But — this is actually Hiro’s home," she began.

"And you are merely a servant? No, this will be your home soon, when you and Hiro marry. And then you will have servants to prepare your food."

"Servants? No, I —" she paused in her denial, realizing that Hiro, as the head of the household, would undoubtedly hire servants to take care of the housework. The idea was unsettling. After working hard all her life, how could she sit back and let people work for her?

"Have I disturbed you, Hanako-san?"

"Oh! Of course not. Would you like some tea?"

"You are kind to offer, but my son is outside fixing a broken wheel on our wagon. I must be ready to go when he is. But I wanted to let you know — I have heard about the extra samurai Tanaka-san has recruited. You should not have to feed all these hungry men alone. Please allow me to assist you. Since you already have tonight’s meal started, I will send food over for tomorrow."

Hanako stared in amazement at the woman’s offer. It had never occurred to her to ask for help. "I — I am humbled by your generosity, Nakamura-san," she finally managed.

The older woman smiled. "You are so accustomed to doing everything alone. But these men are helping the entire village and surrounding areas. It is only right we should all help to feed them."

Hanako again stammered her thanks. "But how did you hear about the new soldiers? Watanabe-san arrived only today."

"Tanaka-san is a celebrity in the village. When his friend arrived, asking where to find him, word immediately spread. My sons learned that others are coming. When they arrive, we will all be honored to help feed and house them."

Noburo Nakamura appeared at the doorway. He bowed a greeting to Hanako and then to his mother. "Okaasan, the wagon is repaired enough for us to return home. I am sorry to make you wait."

"It is no trouble, Nobu-chan," the widow replied. "I rather enjoyed this opportunity to visit with our neighbor." Turning to Hanako, she repeated her promise to send food the next day, and left.

Hanako returned to her cooking, but as she worked, she marveled at this unfamiliar feeling of contentment. It wasn’t from the fact that she wasn’t hungry or excessively tired. It wasn’t from the fact that she felt safe with three former samurai in her home. It came from her connection with another human being, another woman, who expressed care for her well-being and was willing to help. This must be what people referred to as friendship.

She decided she liked having a friend.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment, and be sure to check out other samples by going to Sweet Saturday Samples.

The Samurai's Garden is available at Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. 

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! While I've enjoyed sharing my Christmas novella with you, this week I'd like to return to my Japanese historical novel The Samurai's Garden. I've spent the last two week promoting this book by visiting the blogs of several other authors. Many, many thanks go to Nancy Gideon, S G Rogers, Catherine Bennett, Lindsay Downs, Lisa Orchard, Diane Burton, Jennifer Lowery, Babette James, and Marsha Ward for hosting me on their blogs! 

So now that I'm settled back at my virtual home, I'm busy working on my next projects (I'll share some of those after the holidays!) as well as looking for new ways to promote my November releases.

Recently, we observed Veterans Day, and I joined with others in paying tribute to our men in uniform. It occurred to me that Hiro Tanaka and his friends provided the same kind of protection for his village as our soldiers do for us. Here's an excerpt that explains how he accomplished this:

****

During one of Hiro’s unexplained absences, Hanako noticed a stranger standing silently at the edge of the field. The last time strangers came, Hiro and Ginjiro had fought them off. But this man looked more dangerous than the two ruffians who had attempted to abduct her. She looked around for Ginjiro, wondering how she could signal a warning to him. Her hands trembled as she attempted to appear unconcerned, continuing to tend to the radishes, but her eyes were not focused on her work. Faster and faster, she moved toward the end of the row away from the stranger. Quick, furtive glances assured her that the man had not moved from the edge of the field. Finally, she spotted Ginjiro, working in the next field with the ox and the ancient plow. She gave up all pretense of calm and raced to him. He looked up in surprise as she approached him.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Hanako struggled to catch her breath as she gasped out a description of the man at the roadside. Ginjiro’s expression tightened, and he checked for his sword before heading to where she had seen him. He trod slowly, looking around for signs of other intruders, until he spied the newcomer. Then his face broke into a wide grin, and he re-sheathed his sword before running to greet the man.

Hanako breathed a sigh of relief. If Ginjiro knew this person, he was probably not a threat to her. But why would an acquaintance of his travel here? Perhaps he was a relative.

Ginjiro brought the silent man to her and introduced him as a former comrade. He had answered a request to come and help the town defend against the ronin. The newcomer was immediately invited inside for tea. Since the new house had a larger kitchen and dining area, Hanako usually prepared and served meals there. She got out her fine china cups and special tea. As she worked, she caught snippets of their conversation.

The newcomer, Watanabe-san, was younger than Hiro and Ginjiro. Like Hiro, he walked with a proud, erect posture that bespoke a life of privilege and importance. She suspected that he, too, came from a long line of samurai. She wondered what business he had with Hiro.

Hanako strained to hear the men’s conversation as she prepared the tea and a light snack. Ginjiro’s voice carried more clearly, and she could make out his words. Being a lower-level samurai, he was respectful as he spoke to the younger man.

"Watanabe-san, we are honored you came here to assist us. The ronin have caused much damage here and in other nearby towns in the last year."

"Yes, Tanaka-san told me about their evil deeds," the newcomer replied. "It is a shame that some of our kind have chosen to use their skills in dishonorable ways. It was an honor for Tanaka-san to invite me, and I was intrigued by his offer of payment."

Payment? Hiro was paying men to help fight the ronin? Hanako nearly dropped the teapot.

"I have never owned property, and since I am a younger brother, I will not inherit my family’s estate. My older brother would provide for me, of course, but a chance to have my own land was an enticement for me."

Hanako brought the tea in to the men, bowed, and left to complete dinner preparations. But she left the sliding shoji screen open just enough so she could hear more of their conversation.

So Hiro has promised land in exchange for fighting power. Such a brilliant idea. But is he purchasing this land to give to them?

"I have spoken to Fukazawa-san and Kobayashi-san, and they should arrive within the week," the newcomer continued.

The rest of the conversation was lost to her. There are more men coming! He is recruiting an army! The village will be protected! She let the rest of the conversation flow as she prepared the finest meal she could provide.

****

The Samurai's Garden is available at Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords.

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment, and find more excerpts by visiting the blogs of other authors. Those links can be found at Sweet Saturday Samples.

Blog Tour!

I am so excited about the release of my first full-length novel, The Samurai's Garden. It was released at Astraea Press earlier this week, and now it's also available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. For the next few weeks I'll be "on tour" visiting the blogs of several writing friends, talking about different aspects of writing the book. Today I am thrilled to visit Child of Yden, the blog of YA Fantasy author SG Rogers. I'm talking about Japanese traditions that sparked the writing of The Samurai's Garden. I'd be thrilled if you'd stop in for a visit!

SG Rogers' blog is at http://childofyden.wordpress.com/

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! Here's another sample from The Samurai's Garden. Hanako's village in the far northern Japanese island of Hokkaido is under the threat of another attack by a band of former samurai soldiers called ronin. Hiro, is a former samurai who still lives by the samurai code of ethics. He has promised to help the villagers defend themselves by training them to fight.

****

Hanako knew she should participate more readily in the exercises. After all, this was her property they were defending. Last fall she'd been helpless to stop them. The image of her husband cowering under the furniture still left a knot in her stomach. Would she be as ineffective if put to the test again?

She decided to listen carefully to the instruction, and practice alone in the privacy of the woods, rather than in front of the other villagers. Perhaps later she could join the others.

Seeing that all the animals were settled for the evening, she picked up the handle to an old hoe, and holding it out in front of her, tried to mimic the movements the group performed with Hiro. Carefully, she sliced a diagonal arc in front of herself. The motion didn’t seem quite like the technique Hiro had demonstrated, so she tried again, raising the hoe above her head and bringing it down and across her body with her hands ending near her left knee. She prepared to try the motion again, but gasped when her back connected with a solid wall of muscle. A deep, melodic voice rumbled from the wall at a point above her head.

"Don’t bring your weapon down so far. Remember, this leaves your body open to the opponent’s attack."

Hanako's heart stopped at the unexpected contact. Before she could react, two strong arms came around her. Hiro's right hand enveloped both of hers as they gripped the hoe, and the other came to rest on her left side, holding her close to him. Without thinking, she leaned back against his massive chest. Time stood still as she sank into his warmth.

She barely registered his words as he gently guided her through the drill, keeping the weapon in front of her as it sliced through the air. Using a sturdy willow as an imaginary foe, he positioned her so that her right arm extended toward the tree and the right side of her body faced it.

"Turn your body away from your opponent. This gives him a smaller target and protects your torso from his sword." Her arms and legs continued the drill, but her senses were aware only of her body pressing against his. Her back warmed from his solid presence, and her side tingled where his hand pressed gently to guide her. What would it be like to have those strong hands caressing her, guiding her through a different dance, another ritual?

She let herself dream as his arms and body cradled her. They went through the motions, his right hand and arm directing the improvised weapon, his left hand moving her body. It was amazing how their bodies fit together, how their limbs moved in perfect synchronization. His hands switched as he moved the improvised weapon to her other hand and turned her body so her left side faced the imaginary opponent. Hanako knew the movements had been designed for fighting, but the two of them were engaged in a much different, though equally intense, reality.

All too soon, the fantasy ended. The muscular arms left her sides, and her heart returned to earth with a crash. Hiro backed away, taking the comforting warmth with him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, peering at her curiously. "You look pale. Perhaps you have been working too hard. I should end the training sessions earlier so that I can help you —"

"No." Hanako shook her head, her cheeks burning. The physical contact with him had affected her so strongly that he had noticed.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment, and be sure to check out samples offered by other great authors by going to Sweet Saturday Samples.

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! I've been sharing excerpts from The Samurai's Garden, due to be released at Astraea Press in two months. Last week I shared a memory from Hiro's childhood, so this time I thought I'd share a memory of Hanako's:

Long ago, when she was about eight years old, she’d gone to Sapporo with her father. It was one of the last times she remembered her father with fondness. They went to visit a relative, a cousin of her mother. Her home had tatami floors, unlike the rough wood planks at home. Flowers, artfully arranged, graced brightly lacquered tables. But what had impressed Hanako most was the aura of tranquility. Servants came in and out of the rooms, their steps muffled by the tatami mats on the floors. Sitting in the courtyard with a tiny cup of tea, she heard nothing but the rippling of water in the pond.

The lady of the house greeted them with smiles. She had no children, she told Hanako, and was so happy her cousin’s daughter had come to see her. "Please call me obachan, since I am like an aunt to you."

This aunt, though older than her father, showed none of the signs of aging so evident on farm women. She wore her hair in a pretty style, and she smelled so nice. Her voice was gentle, reminding Hanako of a soft, comforting voice from deep in the recesses of her memory.

The pleasantries ended when her obachan’s husband came home. Hanako remembered a big man with a big voice. The servants dropped down, their faces touching the floor in a deep bow, and the temperature seemed to plunge considerably. The man reminded her of a bear, the way he stormed into the house and roared at everyone. Obachan stopped what she was doing, rose shakily, and bowed. Her smile disappeared, and she remained silent, her eyes remained downward as her husband frowned at Hanako and her father.

Hanako was sent to the servants’ quarters to wait while the adults conducted their business. She never knew exactly what her father had hoped to accomplish on this trip, but suddenly the voices in the sitting room were raised, and the sliding door opened. Her father was pushed roughly out of the room, and the magistrate was heard to say, "Do not come here again! I have already loaned you enough money to buy and supply your farm four times over! You have nothing to show for it. You are no longer family."

With sharp instructions to a servant to see Father out, the door panel slid closed with enough force to rattle its bamboo frame. A moment later, a maid came to escort Hanako outside, and the visit to the lovely home came to an abrupt end.

The walk home had been even longer than the trip there. After they returned to their hut, her father had been a changed man. Though he had once been a kind, loving man, he'd become distant and preoccupied. He no longer seemed to care about the farm or about his child. His only concern had been getting his next drink.

The experience had taught Hanako about the dangers of being in someone else’s debt. Allowing Hiro to build her a new home would put her deeply in his debt, unless they married. Her farm would be her dowry. Could she do it?

****

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Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! I'm sharing another scene from The Samurai's Garden, scheduled for release in November at Astraea Press. This scene is a flashback. Hiro, a former samurai now working on a tiny farm in northern Japan, remembers how his famous warrior father taught him about compassion:

The tiny kitten lay on the roadside, injured and abandoned. Ten-year old Hiro couldn't leave the animal in the road to die, so he brought her home, cleaned her up, and nursed her back to health. He found an old basket, lined it with a soft blanket, and hid the kitten in his room. Each day, after completing his studies and exercises, he sneaked back to his room, gently petting the fur ball and crooning to her softly. Always a dutiful son, he was careful to complete his tasks before indulging himself in the luxury of cuddling with his pet.

One day, the kitten fell ill. Hiro’s heart ached for the tiny being as she lay listlessly, refusing to eat, not wanting to play. He feared for the kitten’s life, but didn’t know how to help her. Chores were done quickly, and he hurried back to his room to check on his charge. He sat on his ofuton, gently petting her, when the shoji screen opened and his father walked in. In his hand was a piece of armor. Hiro had been instructed to polish the headpiece, but the lack of shine attested to his carelessness. Hiro looked up, up, up at the man he loved and feared more than any other. Not only had he failed in his duty, he was harboring a pet. What would the great samurai do? Could he stand by and watch his father callously discard the kitten?

He clutched the kitten to his chest, trembling. The pet squirmed, but thankfully remained quiet, as if understanding that her fate lay in this powerful man’s hand. Hiro struggled to contain the tears that filled his eyes and fought to keep from pleading for the mercy he knew would not come. Duty came first to a samurai. There was no time for the frivolity of pets.

And then the great warrior spoke. Hiro mentally prepared himself for the lashing he knew would follow.

"I wondered about the noises I heard coming from this room when you weren’t home. But you have not come here during the day before now. What caused you to abandon your duties today?"

Hiro’s heart held to a thread of hope. Was it possible that his warrior father understood? He struggled to find his voice. "F-forgive me, otousan. She — she seems ill. She is not eating."

Otousan said nothing, but one brow raised. He held out his hand and waited.

Dutifully, Hiro handed over the kitten, though his hands trembled, and he feared he might drop her. Otousan took the tiny bundle in his large hands and examined her closely. "It appears she has a cold. See, her eyes are watering, and her breathing seems labored. Let’s see if we can help her." He turned and strode to the ofuro, the bath area with Hiro following closely on his heels.

In the hot, steamy room, Otousan lay the kitten on a soft, clean towel. Gradually, the kitten settled in, her breathing calmed. Hiro’s anxiety also eased as he realized she was going to be all right.

Father and son brought the pet back to Hiro’s room to rest. "You should bring her back to the ofuro three or four times each day to clear out her lungs." He turned a stern eye toward his son. "Of course you will do this in between your chores and lessons." Hiro nodded in understanding. "And now that she is resting comfortably, you can return to polishing this armor properly."

Hiro bowed low, thanking the gods he would not be punished today. "Yes, Otousan. I will polish until it gleams."

The beloved pet had lived until Hiro left for the university, and he never forgot his father’s compassion that day. He had learned it was possible to be both a fierce samurai and to have a tender heart. And he realized that strength used to care for a weaker being showed a greater nobility than strength used to take from those who could not fight back.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment, and be sure to check out samples from other fine authors by going to Sweet Saturday Samples. Have a great weekend!

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! I'm getting anxious for the release of The Samurai's Garden, which won't be for another two months. I'm sharing another excerpt with you today. Hiro, a former samurai, has come to help Hanako on her tiny subsistence farm in the northern island of Hokkaido, Japan.

"Why did you come here?" she asked one day as they returned to the hut after a trip into the village.

"I felt I needed to pay a debt incurred by my brothers in war."

"No, I mean why were you in our particular village? I understand many of the samurai are finding other uses for their skills. Did you truly expect to find anything suitable here, so far away from the capital city?"

Hiro took his time answering. After his best friend had died, he had lost his will to fight. When the Emperor Meiji put an end to the samurai class, his duty there had ended, and he had traveled north, farther away from the capital and the political wars. He’d wandered across the countryside, watching people, sleeping wherever he could find shelter, and working when he needed to. The money he had used to purchase Hanako’s animals had come from a wealthy merchant who’d been grateful for Hiro’s temporary services as a bodyguard.

"I was ready for a change from my life in the city. I needed to find another path, one with more peace and harmony. I have grown to appreciate the life you lead, the way you supply most of your needs from the land around you."

There was much more to his story, but thankfully, Hanako seemed to accept his answer.

"Don't you have responsibilities to your family?" she asked.

"I am the second of four sons. My eldest brother is now a member of the Imperial Guard. He has primary care for my mother, now that my father is gone."

"Will you return to the city after the harvest?"

"I am not sure about my future. I think I would like to stay here for some time. If you will agree to teach me all you know, I will continue to stay and help you with your farm."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "The life of a farmer is difficult. It is hard physical labor, and one is always dependent on the weather. Many other things can go wrong, destroying all your work. Fire, drought, disease, and of course —" She swallowed convulsively before continuing, "— invasion by ronin."

Hiro had taken seriously his vows of samurai ethics, and he was repulsed by the antics of the ronin. "The emperor’s men are clamping down on them," he began.

"The emperor’s men cannot be everywhere," she argued. "The ronin travel at night and take people by surprise. No one is exempt from the terror they impart."

He stopped walking and turned to face her, but waited until she met his eyes before he spoke. "They will not harm you again. I swear it."

****

Thanks for stopping by! Hope you enjoyed it. Be sure to check out excerpts from other fine authors by going to Sweet Saturday Samples and clicking on their links!

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! This week I'm continuing to share excerpts from my upcoming release, The Samurai's Garden. This scene takes place directly after the one I posted last week:

****

Hiro put the axe away and walked back to his hut. He made use of the tiny washbowl and returned to Hanako’s hut to find out what the day’s work would be. She was still busy cooking, so he sat down on the cushion to watch her.

He hadn’t expected to be comfortable here, but he had slept soundly and awakened full of energy. The air here seemed cleaner, everything looked brighter, and he had tiptoed past her hut to investigate the surroundings in the light of day. Noticing the nearly depleted woodpile, he imagined her struggling to chop the wood for her fire. The thought distressed him so much he chose the tallest tree he could find, cutting it down and chopping it into pieces so that she wouldn’t have to worry about the chore for a while.

Watching her now, as she worked on the simple meal, he compared her to the women he had known. Embodying the traditional concept of beauty, their smooth, uncalloused hands held delicately painted fans in front of their powdered faces. Hanako’s fingernails were lined with dirt, and her face was tanned from working outdoors. Her clear eyes shone with intelligence and sincerity. Yet in her simplicity she was as elegant as a geisha.

Hanako’s breakfast preparations were interrupted by a strange bellow from behind the hut. Hiro looked up, uncomprehending, while she jumped up and ran outside. He got up to follow her.

The cow had broken her lead rope and had begun to trot away. Hanako ran after the animal, but the kimono she wore didn't allow her to run very fast. She could only move her legs from the knees down, and the cow got farther and farther away.

Hiro knew he could overtake the animal more easily and raced after the errant cow. Charging past Hanako, he finally reached the animal and grabbed what was left of the lead rope. Then he slowed his steps, gradually bringing the cow to a halt. The massive animal resisted his pull, but Hiro managed to turn her around.

A flash of gray to his right caught his attention. A wolf? Was that why the cow had run? Perhaps he'd better go hunting later.

Before Hiro had the cow back to the hut, Hanako was already hard at work digging a hole. A sturdy pole and a thicker rope lay on the ground nearby.           

He admired her athletic movement, as well as her fine form, as she set about her task. She was such a hard worker. A sudden thought entered his mind, startling him with its intensity.

She is a strong woman, worthy of a strong warrior.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment and check out the excerpts from other great authors by visiting Sweet Saturday Samples. See you next week!

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! This week I have another short scene from my upcoming release, The Samurai's Garden:

She stopped suddenly at an unfamiliar sound outside her hut. Who or what would be making that noise? The road was not well-traveled, and it was not the sound of an animal foraging for food. She peeked through the doorway, and her jaw dropped as she realized what she had heard.

Hiro stood at the edge of the clearing, swinging an ancient axe in a deadly arc at the trunk of a thick tree. A loud crack preceded the thunderous boom as it crumpled to the earth. The axe continued its work as limbs and branches were separated from the trunk.

Hanako’s mouth went dry at the sight of her handsome guest. He was stripped to the waist, his tanned and muscled arms glistening as they swung rhythmically. She couldn’t resist leaning out of the doorway to get a closer look. Mesmerized, she stared at the rippling muscles on his back. Kenji had never stirred such feelings in her. Of course, Kenji had never subjected himself to hard physical labor. He was an artist and an intellectual.

Thinking of her husband brought memories of him cowering in a corner, pleading for his life. A big, muscular soldier stood over him, his sword raised…

Memories of that dreadful time brought a dull ache to her heart. She lifted a hand to her breast as if to massage the ache away. Remembering her guest, she turned from the doorway. She couldn’t think about such things now.

She lit the fire and put on water for tea. The little earthen jar held enough rice for one healthy serving, so she washed the precious grains and set them aside to soak. A quick trip to her garden produced a radish and some herbs. After a moment’s hesitation, she picked a few blossoms from her flowerbed. Such a fine gentleman was probably used to having lovely things at his table. She didn’t have much, but her flowers would have to do.

She found a thin wooden board and cleaned it as well as she could. Remembering an old bottle of cheap sake her father had left behind, she dug it out and pulled out the stopper. The rancid odor nearly made her swoon. The fancy gentleman would definitely not drink this concoction. But the decorated bottle gave her an idea. After dumping out the contents, she arranged the blossoms in it and set the arrangement on her makeshift tray.

The rice was boiling in the pot, and she had just finished seasoning the chopped radish when Hiro entered the hut. His face and torso gleamed from his morning exertion. Hanako forced herself to look away.

"Thank you for cutting up the firewood. I didn't realize the woodpile was so low." She continued to look away as she prepared his tray. If she gave in, she would subject herself to longings she had forgotten. It would not do to wish for the attentions of the wealthy traveler.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Be sure to leave a comment, and find other great excerpts by going to Sweet Saturday Samples.

Sweet Saturday

Welcome! I'm so glad to be back to Sweet Saturdays. I've been working on some new projects so that I'd have more to share, but this week I'm busy with edits for The Samurai's Garden, which has been accepted at Astraea Press and is slated for release in November. So I'd like to introduce you to a few of the characters I'm working with. In this scene, Hiro, a former samurai now working on a farm in northern Japan, meets a former comrade:

Ginjiro’s winding path took him past the woods where Hiro stood, and he teetered as he noted Hiro’s presence. His eyes scrunched as he tried to focus. "Friend, could you help an old soldier?" he slurred.

"You are not so old, Ginjiro, and I see your habits have not changed. Why do you continue to drink yourself into a stupor? You can hardly walk. Sit down and stop weaving about before you hurt yourself."

The inebriated man started in surprise. "You know me?" He tottered forward and squinted again. "Tanaka-san, is that you? What are you doing so far from the mainland? I thought you would have a successful career as a merchant or a politician in Tokyo."

"We will not talk about me. You need to sleep off your drink."

"No, I need to fill myself with the ale. It will dull the pain."

"Why are you in pain? You don’t appear injured."

"I’m talking about the pain of my sword when I perform seppuku.

Hiro’s eyes widened, and he stepped toward his former comrade. "No!"

"Yes, my friend. You are smart. You have the mind and the money to become anything you choose. But I am a warrior. Perhaps not a very good one, but I am a soldier. It is all I know. I cannot do anything else. I have looked all around trying to find a noble to take me on as a guard, but I am too small, too weak, too — stupid. I even worked for some disreputable men, but I was not able to stay. I am a failure as a samurai. I must die."

"Ginjiro, do not speak of yourself this way. You can find honest work. I can help you. Please — you must not kill yourself."

Hiro had fought in countless battles, but nothing had brought him the horror he had once experienced watching a childhood friend disembowel himself in the name of honor. Hiro himself had taken the code of the Bushido, but he failed to understand the need for the awful ritual required of the samurai soldiers for crimes real or imagined. It was the primary reason he had left the mainland in search of another calling. He could not face his former comrades who had become politicians and merchants, vocations as cutthroat as the life of a samurai. He needed to find a more peaceful life. Ginjiro’s words had recalled the violence he had tried so hard to escape. He could not bear to watch another comrade take his own life.

****

Thanks for stopping by! Check out more excerpts by going to Sweet Saturday Samples and clicking on the links to other author blogs. But first, PLEASE leave a comment! I'm excited about this manuscript and am eager to find out what others think.