"A common girl becomes a powerful queen"
Reviewed by Clare O'Beara
Posted January 21, 2025
Women's Fiction Historical
While reading this detailed book over a few days, I would invariably find myself singing ‘By the Rivers of Babylon’. While the song is sad in content, it’s lively and compelling. So too is the story of BABYLONIA. We travel back to the dawn of writing, in the heavily populated Near East. The Assyrian empire's only female ruler, Semiramis, is shown strolling in the hanging gardens, accompanied by a faithful leopard. Her story is a long one, and contains many deaths.
The Mesopotamian warrior kingdoms were constantly making and breaking alliances, going to battle, besieging walled cities and enslaving or killing captives. Our story starts with something even worse – a civil war. Ninus the king and Onnes his friend and governor are going to come out on top, but meanwhile, the brother of Ninus wants the throne, and life is chaos for everyone else. Semiramis, named by her Greek mother, is an orphan, a common girl adopted by a poor shepherd. Her ambition, for instance to be the best cliff climber among the youths, is great. Semiramis has too much ambition for the village of Mari, and Onnes, appointed the new governor of Eber-Nari area, decides to take her back to the palace and make her his wife.
Politics and internecine rivalry are the order of the day in the royal city of Kalhu. Everyone seems to be manipulated. There is a Spymaster, but the king's mother, Nisat, desperately tries to retain her status by ordering everyone around and threatening servants. Ribat, born as a slave, opts to serve the new lady in the palace, and is rewarded. War comes on swift chariot wheels, with clashes of bronze and iron spears, and Semiramis’s bravery and skills stand her in good stead. News comes that the great, rich, city of Babylon has the Assyrian Empire in its sights.
The only way to make this historic past work in a modern fiction book is to concentrate on bringing the characters to life. By carefully following known writings, adding details from our oldest story, The Epic of Gilgamesh, written by Assyrian scribes who recorded every transaction, victory and list of loot, the author Costanza Casati has accomplished the task. Her men draw swords if displeased, but love with tenderness. Her powerful women plot and seduce, but enjoy wearing fine clothes. Children are put to work early, captive children not valued – except by Semiramis, the only woman on the battlefield.
BABYLONIA depicts many cultural arts, well developed and flourishing, from sculpture and gardening to dressmaking and epic poetry. The tale of Semiramis has come down to us, the exception rather than the rule of her day. Read her story, learn her myth.
SUMMARY
From the author of the bestselling Clytemnestra comes another intoxicating excursion into ancient history, painting the brutal and captivating empire of gods and men, and the one queen destined to rule them all.
A common woman. The governor she married. The king who loved them both.
Babylonia across the centuries has become the embodiment of lust, excess, and dissolute power that ruled Ancient Assyria. In this world you had to kill to be king. Or, in the case of Semiramis, an orphan raised on the outskirts of an empire:
Queen.
Nothing about Semiramis's upbringing could have foretold her legacy. But when she meets a young representative of the new Assyrian king, a prophecy unfolds before her, one that puts her in the center of a brutal world and in the hearts of two men - one who happens to be king.
Now a risen lady in a court of vipers, Semiramis becomes caught in the politics and viciousness of ancient Assyria. Instead of bartering with fate, Semiramis trains in war and diplomacy. And with each move, she rises in rank, embroiled in a game of power, desire, love, and betrayal, until she can ascend to the only position that will ever keep her safe.
In her second novel, Costanza Casati brilliantly weaves myth and ancient history together to give Semiramis, the only female ruler of the Assyrian Empire, a voice, charting her captivating ascent to a throne no one promised her.
ExcerptChapter One
Sheila Aldridge leaned back in her desk chair, considering how to answer. She glanced over at her empty desk calendar, although she already knew she didn’t have plans over the Christmas holiday, but the “what’s your calendar look like” question always made her freeze, feeling like a mouse getting ready to be pounced on by a cat. Real estate slowed this time of year, making it one of her least favorite seasons, especially since her divorce. But this wasn’t just anyone asking, it was Natalie. “My schedule is fairly flexible. What are you thinking?”
“I want you to come stay with me for the holidays. I miss my best friend,” Natalie said. “Please say yes. I promise it’ll be fun.”
Natalie had moved from Richmond to the tiny mountain town of Chestnut Ridge last year following a devastating loss. Sheila understood that Natalie needed to get back on her feet, even take time to lick her wounds, but she never thought she’d stay up there.
I’d have guessed she’d last three months. Tops.
“Why don’t you come here instead? We could do the lights at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. It’ll be like old times.” Sheila could never get Dan to go see them, so for six years running, it had been her and Natalie going together. Good riddance, Dan.
“You know I can’t. Randy is here, and it’s our first real Christmas together.”
“Which is probably why I shouldn’t be there. You don’t need a third wheel while you snuggle-bunny your way through the holidays.”
“Oh stop. You’re never a third wheel. Plus, the town has this huge festival called the Christmas Tree Stroll. It’ll be fun.”
“Exactly how huge? There aren’t but a couple thousand people in the whole town.” It came out a little snarkier than she’d intended.
“Everyone will be there. If it’s one thing about Chestnut Ridge I’ve learned, it’s that folks enjoy getting together. The Christmas Tree Stroll is supposed to be the party of the year,” Natalie explained.
Sheila had thought Natalie’s move into her late husband’s hunting cabin was a big mistake for a girl used to all the conveniences of living in the city. But the joy in Natalie’s voice was undeniable. She was making a new life for herself in the small town of Chestnut Ridge, and it warmed Sheila’s heart that Natalie sounded like her old self again.
Natalie was still rambling. “And it’s held on the high school football field,” she explained. “So, it might not be the lights and festivities at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, but rows and rows of Christmas trees will line the whole field, and each tree is decorated in a different theme. I’ve seen pictures and this year it’s going to be even more spectacular.”
“If you’ve never been to this Christmas Stroll, how do you know that it will be even more spectacular?”
“Because I just entered.” Natalie’s excitement was contagious. Sheila grinned while shaking her head. “Of course you did. I knew there was more to this invite.”
“Go ahead, make fun,” Natalie said. “Not only do I want your help, but I’m also counting on the festival inspiring new ideas for next year’s card collection. Technically, it’s work and play, and that’s always more fun when you’re around. Come on. Please? You’re so good at decorating. I need you.”
“And you want to win.” This was the enthusiasm Sheila had missed since Natalie left town.
“I do, and with your help I know we can create something magical.”
“Mm-hmm. What are we going to win?”
“Bragging rights for next year and a banner.”
“A banner? High stakes. How can I say no?” Sheila couldn’t contain her amusement, but she didn’t want to disappoint her friend, either. “Okay, fine. What would I have to do?”
“Does it even matter?” Natalie’s voice bounced with excitement. “We’re decorating for Christmas. It’ll be festive. And festive is fun.”
“Fun for you, and your sweetheart. Everything is fun when you’re in love. That leaves me the third wheel, and that’s about as fun as a flat tire.” Sheila stared at her empty calendar.
“Again with the third wheel? Tricycles are cool. It’s better than being a unicycle sitting at home by yourself.”
That pinched. “You’ve got a point, but I do like to know what I’m being roped into. I have my limits. I refuse to dress up as an elf.”
“At the most, we might wear those cute light-up antlers, but even that’s negotiable. You can help me decide.”
“This better not end up like the time you tricked me into landscaping from dusk to dawn on a ninety-degree day for Habitat for Humanity.”
“You enjoyed that,” Natalie reminded her.
“Not the sweating part. I’d have at least dressed more appropriately if you’d told me I was going to be up to my armpits in dirt and compost.”
“You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you.”
It was true. She wouldn’t have. She’d never been the get-your-hands-dirty kind of gal, but it had been a rewarding experience. She’d volunteered again since then. “I had fun that day despite the heat and dirt. More to the point, I’d do anything with you.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Yes,” Sheila said with a sigh. “But I reserve the right to complain about it later.” She knew deep down that spending Christmas with Natalie, even in Chestnut Ridge as the third wheel, was going to be wonderful. Natalie’s beau, Randy, was a good guy, and now that things looked pretty serious, she was glad to be spending more time with them, always having Natalie’s best interests at heart.
“You won’t have any reason to complain. It’s going to be great.”
“I know it will. I miss you. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you.” Sheila twisted her long ponytail in front of her shoulder. “I guess now that Randy has relocated up there, this move is a forever thing, isn’t it?”
“There are days I still can’t believe it, but here I am living in Chestnut Ridge and happier than I could have ever imagined. I love living here.”
“You love Randy,” Sheila said, and the joy in Natalie’s lively response made Sheila hopeful.
“I do. So much. He’s so good to me. I’d live in a tent to be with him,” Natalie said. “And you know how I feel about sleeping on the ground.”
“Okay, okay.” Sheila picked up the rose-gold pen with her company logo on it and poised it over her calendar. “When do you need me?”
Natalie clapped and squealed. “This is great.”
“Don’t act so surprised,” Sheila teased. “You know I can never say no to you.”
“But I’m not usually asking you to go out of town,” Natalie said.
“True.”
“Okay, so the festival kicks off with a Holiday Warmup that Orene hosts. I know she’d be thrilled if you could make it for that.”
“Absolutely. She’s incredibly sweet.”
“Good. So, that would mean being here by the evening of the thirteenth for the party—”
“You do realize that’s a Friday the thirteenth?”
“Oh stop! That’s a silly superstition, but if you want to come on the twelfth to be safe, that’s fine by me, and stay through the New Year, but if that’s too long, then at least stay through Christmas day.”
“Let’s take one holiday at a time. That’s two whole weeks.” She couldn’t even bring her hand to the calendar.
“Oh come on. You make your own schedule. Now that you have four real estate agents working under you, you can take time off. You need a break once in a while. Money isn’t everything.”
“It sure makes life easier, though.”
“You know better than that. You and Dan were rolling in the big bucks when you two split up.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m just playing. Okay, I’m blocking the dates, but on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Let’s see if Orene will put me up while I’m down there so you and Randy can have your time together too. No arguments.”
“Fine.”
“And I do have to go to Virginia Beach to see Mom the weekend before Christmas. I’ll drive back to Richmond that night to check my mail, then come back for the Christmas Tree Stroll and spend Christmas with you.”
“Perfect!”
Sheila slid the broad-tip marker across the dates. “You’ll check with Orene for me?” “I’ll talk to her today and give you a call back. We’re going to win that banner for sure with you on my team.”
Sheila’s thought flowed right out of her mouth. “I wonder how they’ll feel about an out-of-towner and the newest resident of their little town winning the coveted banner?” “Hadn’t really considered that, but I guess that’s for us to find out,” said Natalie. “They’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Let me know what I can bring from the city to hedge our bets.”
“Oooh, excellent idea.” Natalie picked up a pen. “I’ll start a list.”
Sheila could almost hear the ideas pulsing through Natalie’s brain.
“I’ll send you the flyer from last year,” Natalie said. “It’s hard to explain over the phone. The short version is each team adopts a tree. Then, we have to pick a theme, and a name for our entry. If there’s something similar, they make you come up with another plan, so I want to get ours in early. Oh, and after the stroll awards are announced, they distribute the competition trees to families in need across two counties. Isn’t that awesome?”
“It is. Oh gosh, there are a million ideas already floating through my head.” Sheila jotted down a quick brainstorm of ideas, including snowflakes, antique toys, rose gold, stockings.
“Mine too. Orene has scrapbooks from every single year. I’m going to check them out this afternoon. I’ll send pictures so you can see.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll think on it too.” But Sheila knew Natalie was off and running. “You’ve already been on Pinterest, haven’t you?”
“Maybe. A little. And Instagram, and TikTok, and you don’t even want to know all the time I’ve wasted researching this already,” Natalie admitted. “We need something original. Nothing much store-bought if possible.”
“Well, then I won’t bother with doing a bunch of shopping here,” Sheila said. “We’ll come up with something spectacular! I’ll bring my glue guns.”
“In the past, some winners based their tree designs on holiday movies or songs. The local seamstress did one that looked like a winter wedding gown last year. The garland was shimmering fabric with pearls and beads. It was drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I’ve seen those Christmas tree dresses. Do you need me to bring my big pre-lit tree. It’s a really nice one. It looks totally real?”
“No. The town purchases the trees from the Christmas tree farms here in the county. It’s part of the entry fee. We get to pick the height and type though.”
“I like the look of long needles, as long as they aren’t in my house,” Sheila said.
“True. The short-needled trees seem sturdier, though. Depending on what we decide to do, we might need that. We get the whole business week to decorate, not that it’ll take that long, but it gives us some flexibility to do other things while you’re here too.”
“Which is why you want me to come for two weeks.”
“Exactly. I’m going to warn you, this town grows on you fast,” she said, as if tempting her.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m a city girl from my salon-touched roots to my pedicured toes.” Sheila jotted a note to get her nails done before she went.
“I’ll let Orene know we’ll both help with the Holiday Warmup,” Natalie said, “but everyone pitches in. That’s just how folks are around here.”
“Chestnut Ridge sounds like a fairy-tale town.”
“In the best possible way, and everyone is genuinely nice. If you’re lucky, it’ll snow. There’s nothing more breathtaking than these mountains blanketed in fresh snow.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a white Christmas. Do you want me to bring my tree for your cabin?”
“No one does fake trees up here.”
“If you spritz a little pine smell on it no one could tell the difference.”
“Christmas tree farms are how our neighbors make a living, and everyone supports the local businesses here. These tree farms make a production of picking out your Christmas tree. You’re going to love it.”
“We’ll see about that.” Unexpected excitement coursed through her. “I barely remember the last time I decorated a tree. I guess I’ll be getting my fill.” Sheila tapped her finger on her desk pad, where she’d been scribbling notes. “I have to ask. White lights or colored lights?”
“That entirely depends on the theme,” Natalie said, “but I’ll admit, I prefer the big colored lights.”
“Me too. It just seems more festive.”
“Get ready. These two weeks in Chestnut Ridge are my Christmas gift to you.”
“Thanks, Nat. I’m ready for a Christmas worth remembering.”
Chapter Two
The Sunday before Thanksgiving, Sheila gathered her things to set up for her last scheduled open house of the year. The Carrolton Estate was a stunning home in a sought-after neighborhood. Houses in this area didn’t come up for sale that often, and she’d sold this one to a newlywed couple just four years ago. Unfortunately, they’d already outgrown the house and were eager to find a new perfect place to call home.
She fussed with fresh flowers until they looked perfectly welcoming on the entry hall table. Luxury listings were what she was known for and, frankly, closing out the year with a commission of this size would be a wonderful way to wrap it up.
Humming Christmas carols as she arranged freshly baked cookies on a platter in the kitchen, she realized she was excited about her holiday plans in Chestnut Ridge.
Sheila was thankful for Natalie’s newfound happiness after the difficult path she’d traveled the last few years. First she’d lost her husband, Jeremy, and then, just as she was climbing out of the depths of grief, Marc Swindell popped into her life and conned her out of just about everything she owned. Then again, if that hadn’t happened, Natalie might not have met Randy. Who’s to say the right path to happiness is always a smooth one? Lord knows, I’ve had my rocky roads. Isn’t it time to bring on my joy yet?
Thank goodness Detective Randy Fellowes had been assigned to Natalie’s case when Swindell swindled Natalie. Not only for the justice that was finally served, but for the happiness Randy brought to her. A joy that Sheila hadn’t seen in Natalie’s eyes since Jeremy passed away.
We’ve both been through a lot over the past five years. I hope my happy days are ahead too.
She heard the front door open, and straightened, assuming her best friendly Realtor demeanor.
Not every visitor who came to an open house was a prospective buyer; she’d learned that a long time ago. But as she gave this couple the once-over, she saw that they had interested buyers written all over them.
“Welcome. Thanks for coming out today.” The opulent Richmond house would draw a lot of people, even on the busiest travel weekend of the year. There’d be lookie-loos, but she was certain she’d get at least one good offer today. It was just too special a property for the right buyer to pass up.
Sheila handed the couple a glossy booklet with all the details about the house. “Make yourselves at home. It just might be your next one. I’ll let you mill around.”
The husband looked impressed with the pricey marketing material. It was one of her secret weapons. These high-end properties deserved the extra touch, since the commissions were extra big.
The woman peered over her husband’s shoulder. “I’ve got to see that kitchen.”
Sheila had staged special pictures, opting to use different ones from the online listings, for the fancy booklet. Photos staged specifically for this showing, with an eye to the demographic right down to the artwork inserted into the picture frames. Photoshop was one incredible invention. Not that she knew how to use it, but she was smart enough to hire a whiz kid who did.
“Look, hon!” The woman’s blue eyes danced as she looked up from the brochure, and then she turned to Sheila. “I’ve always wanted a fancy spa bathroom.”
“Me too. It’s a beauty. When you walk in, the relaxation will practically lift you off your feet. Feel free to enjoy the champagne and strawberries.” Sheila had set them up in a shiny silver ice bucket and crystal flutes. Who could resist that?
“I can’t wait,” the woman gushed, and she hooked her arm through her husband’s, practically dragging him down the hall. “This way, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’d start in the kitchen. Don’t miss the pantry. It’s definitely a chef-quality space.”
The husband’s eyebrows cocked in appreciation.
“And there’s an outdoor kitchen too.” Sheila knew how to pick up on the subtleties of body language to pitch the right perks.
A family came in right behind them with an adorable little girl with blond ringlets and wearing a powder-blue dress that matched her twinkling eyes.
“Welcome.” She offered a children’s version of the pamphlet to their daughter. One with a picture of a kitten on the ottoman and a puppy in the backyard. The little girl had adorable Shirley Temple dimples when she smiled.
“There are some fresh-baked cookies on the kitchen counter,” Sheila whispered to the parents as they accepted the brochure.
“We’ve been waiting for something in this neighborhood to come up for so long,” the woman said. “It’s honestly a stretch on our budget, but we couldn’t resist checking it out.”
Sheila dove in. “Well, interest rates are low right now. There are so many advantages. Walking distance to the academy, which makes this a highly sought-after neighborhood for families with school-age children.” Sheila noticed the way the wife shot a glance to her husband. That was clearly something they’d discussed before. “It’s a lot of house for the price point. Take a look around. The HOA is lower than other similar neighborhoods, which is a real plus because it keeps those monthly additional expenses down, and this house has one of the highest efficiency ratings I’ve seen,” Sheila added.
“That is helpful,” her husband said.
“I’ll answer any questions you might have,” Sheila said. “My card is in the booklet, and I have a wonderful team that can help you navigate any challenges. Home buying requires looking at the long term, especially when you’re raising children. We’re familiar with this area. We’re here to help you with this house, or find the perfect one in your price range.”
“Thank you so much.”
For a moment, Sheila’s mind wandered as she watched the little girl tug at her mom’s hand toward the kitchen.
She’d always thought she’d have children by now, but she and Dan had never been blessed that way. No matter how many times Dan swore it wasn’t the reason for their separation, the fact that he was married less than a year after their divorce to a new wife who was already pregnant left her aching.
She took comfort in helping families find the perfect home to raise their children. That would have to be enough.
She could so easily picture herself walking her children to school on pretty days. She’d cut back on the hours she worked in a heartbeat for something like that. If I had a daughter, I’d have snatched this house right up.
People came in a steady flow, giving her plenty of time to talk with each of them. It was really a perfect open house.
During a lull of activity, she checked her emails. Natalie had sent the details on the Christmas Tree Stroll. A photograph taken from above showed how many trees there were, and she couldn’t begin to count them.
Sheila recognized Orene in one of the pictures. Smiling broadly, she was standing with a woman holding a sign that read duck the halls with a christmas song theme. Their team had decorated their long-needled pine with colorful decoys wearing festive wreaths, and a garland of shiny red and green shotgun casings and colorful feathers. A handwritten note below the picture said, “ ‘Deck the Halls’ performed on quacking duck calls played from the tree skirt.” Sheila had to admit that was innovative.
She scrolled to the entry form. Each team could have up to eight people on it. All decorating would be done on a tree of preselected type and size. There were lighting requirements, which also included a “no open flames” clause. That sounds like a rule that must’ve come from a prior incident.
Each entry should include a sign no larger than twenty by twenty inches with a name that helped describe the theme of the entry
trees will be judged on [a] unique design and creative use of lights and decorations; [b] storyline or theme; [c] display and placement of decorations; and [d] overall presentation.
Sheila went back to the email, to which Natalie had attached about ten pictures. Each tree was more unique than the last. We’re going to have our work cut out to come up with something better than these.
“Excuse me?”
Sheila looked up, surprised she hadn’t heard the customers walk through the living room on the walnut hardwood floors. It was the first couple she’d greeted, at the very beginning of the open house. They’d left earlier; that they’d come back was a good sign.
Sheila stuffed her phone into her pocket. “What do you think?”
“This house is perfect,” the wife said. “You’re right about that master suite. It’s amazing. And that tub. Oh my gosh.”
Sheila had draped the thirsty white robe she’d treated herself to on her last visit to the Greenbrier over the freestanding, fully jetted tub.
The champagne and fresh berries and a copy of The Shell Collector positioned just so on a table with turquoise and real gold in the acrylic overlay couldn’t go unnoticed.
“Buy the house, and I’ll throw in the champagne bucket and robe,” Sheila teased.
“We’ll hold you to that!” the woman said. “Where did you find that table? It’s stunning.”
“A local craftsman makes those. I can give you his information.” She owned three of them. This one, another with sapphire-like gems and silver inlays, and one with tiny pine cones floating in acrylic in a wide knot right in the middle. They didn’t go with anything in her house, but she hadn’t been able to resist them.
Now they’d found their place in her open-house arsenal of tricks, and she was pretty sure she was keeping that guy busy with all the cards she handed out.
Sheila tried to resist celebrating before the deal was done. “Any questions I can answer for you before I close up shop here?”
The husband and wife looked at each other, and then he spoke up. “We’d like to make an offer.”
“Wonderful.” And there it was. What a way to end the year. “We can do the paperwork here, or meet at my office.”
“We’re ready to work it up now.”
“Just let me take down the Open House sign, and we’ll get this taken care of.” Sheila jogged out to get the sign and balloons and tucked them in the back seat of her Mercedes. It only took a moment, and she was back, locking the door behind her. “Okay, this is so exciting. It’s a magnificent home.”
Three hours later, she’d presented the sellers with the offer and they were tickled pink, and since the buyers had a prequalification letter, there wasn’t much worry that things wouldn’t go smoothly. She called to congratulate the couple and discuss the next steps.
It had been a long day with the open house and the deal, but well worth it.
She unlocked the door to her house and walked inside, kicking off her shoes and hanging her purse on the coat tree. After a quick shower, she pulled out a mason jar of salad from her refrigerator, added a few cooked shrimp, and sat in front of the television to eat dinner with a glass of chardonnay.
In a couple of weeks, she’d be in Chestnut Ridge. This would be one of the last quiet evenings she’d have until the new year, since she’d moved the holiday party for the office to next week. That would keep her busy.
She picked up her phone and started typing in a list of things to pack. A gift for Orene. Two probably. A thank-you for letting her stay and a Christmas gift. She’d seen the cutest teapot in an antique store a few weeks ago while she was looking for a new punch bowl for the open house. She’d immediately thought of Orene then. Too bad she hadn’t made the purchase. She hoped it was still there.
I’ll stop by there tomorrow.
Her phone rang and wasn’t that perfect timing. Orene’s name displayed on the screen.
“Hello, Orene. I was just thinking about you.”
“Wonderful, because I have your room ready for you. I’m so delighted you’re going to come join us for the Christmas Tree Stroll this year.”
“It sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it is. You’ll never want to spend the holidays anywhere else,” Orene said. “Now, I had a couple of questions for you. What’s your favorite Christmas cookie?”
“I haven’t met a cookie I didn’t like, but if I had to pick a favorite, I’d say gingerbread. The thin crispy ones.”
“Perfect! I just so happen to make the best gingerbread around,” Orene bragged. “And what’s your favorite color?”
“That’s easy. Red.”
“Excellent, dear. I can’t wait to see you. It’ll be a little chaotic the first night with the Holiday Warmup in full swing, but I promise you a quiet stay the rest of the holiday. I hope you plan to relax while you’re here.”
“I do. I’ve got all my work covered here. I even ordered a couple of new Christmas novels to read. It’s going to be all Christmas, all the time, while I’m in Chestnut Ridge.”
“As it should be,” quipped Orene. “I can’t wait for you to arrive.”
“Thank you so much for letting me stay with you. I’ll see you soon.” Sheila hung up the phone, feeling like she’d just received a warm hug. It had been too long since she’d had one of those.
Chapter Three
Tucker parked his red Ford F-450 pickup in front of the firehouse. Tonight everyone, volunteer firefighters and his paid staff, would come together to celebrate a job well done, honor those they’d lost, and plan for the following year.
He walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door. He slid a box to the edge of the seat and hoisted it out. It was heavy, and the thin cardboard sort of dipped under the weight of the contents. He slid one hand under the middle to support it, and headed through the parking lot filled with mostly pickup trucks and a few minivans.
The community had worked hard to raise the funds to move the fire station into this new building to position them for success.
Hickory smoke filled the air. The Newton brothers had been tending the barbecuing of the whole hog since the wee hours of the morning.
Lights glowed through the huge glass-panel doors, and friendly banter echoed out into the night. Pride coursed through him as he walked inside to the large group he considered his second family.
Good folks. All of them.
Tables set up earlier this afternoon were now filled end-to-end with casseroles, side dishes, fresh bread, and baked goods that would be enjoyed alongside the barbecued pork.
Tucker walked in and rang the bell that hung next to the front entrance door. “Hey now! How is everyone?”
Cheers and whistles were followed by the shuffle of people turning their attention to their fire chief as the room began to quiet a bit.
Refreshments filled the long table next to the microphone platform, which was mostly used for bingo nights to raise money, but tonight it was Tucker onstage. He set the box down, then grabbed a cup of sweet tea before walking up the steps to take the microphone. “Everyone ready to get this business taken care of so we can eat?”
“Yes!” Everyone gathered around.
“Thanks for coming out,” Tucker said. “To my full-timers, thank you all for keeping it safe for every one of us. It’s a team effort, and you are continually teaching and learning from each other.”
A whistle came from the back.
“We are fortunate to have such a strong group of volunteers,” Tucker said. “When I go to the state meeting, I’m really proud that we don’t have the problems that so many departments across this state are facing. They struggle to find people with this work in their heart. Our recruitment and training numbers have been outstanding. Give yourselves a round of applause.”
As everyone clapped, Tucker looked at the faces in front of him, feeling like a lucky man. “We made it through the year with no critical injuries, and I’m grateful for that.”
“What about when Sully burned off his eyebrows?” someone shouted from the back.
“That was a cooking incident. I’m not counting that one. The bananas Foster was still good, and I’m still convincing myself the crunchy topping was toasted coconut and not his red eyebrows.”
His comments brought lots of laughter, and playful ribbing rose among the group.
“Yeah. Yeah, well, those things happen. But tonight is for serious business. First of all, over seventy percent of fire stations across our country are staffed entirely by volunteers. For a county the size of ours, it’s an honor that we have support from our county to staff a small but mighty and dependable team. But these bays are darn near full of people.” He swallowed hard, controlling the emotion threatening to turn his words to a tremble. “Volunteers. You are critical to this equation. We don’t take any of you for granted. Even those who may have only come out on a very limited basis. You went through the training and you are here for us. Thank you.”
He clapped his hands together, and everyone joined in.
“Thanksgiving is this week. You know, I don’t remember a single year that we didn’t have an incident on Thanksgiving Day. Every fire and rescue is important, but those around the holidays just seem to be harder to take. We need to keep our community on their toes. Be sure to pass on safety information to family, friends, your church pastors, anyone who you talk to. The more knowledge and awareness we can raise, the better off we’ll all be. We’ll be hosting a Thanksgiving dinner here on Thanksgiving Day. Pop in and out as you like. The Trout and Snout is providing all the side dishes, and a big thank-you to the Newton brothers for bringing the barbecue tonight and always. Despite the loving nickname of the Pig Newtons, they will be smoking turkeys on Thanksgiving for us.”
“Tom is a turkey, so that sort of works,” someone said.
Tucker shook his head. It was like a family reunion every time they got together. “Any families you know of who might need any assistance, give Tommy the name and addresses. Anything we don’t consume, we’ll be sure gets into the right folk’s hands that evening.”
Tommy held his clipboard over his head. “See me, or there’s another sign-up sheet over on the bulletin board.”
Tucker went through the rest of the agenda. Finally, with all the business at hand done, he picked up the box he’d placed near the mic earlier.
“Now, my favorite part. Another thank-you letter, and it came with this huge box of cookies. Think y’all can quietly pass this around while I read it?” He handed the cookie box off to someone and it started moving around the room.
“It turns out Mrs. Davenport works for the bakery over in Galax. Her family made these. They are almost too pretty to eat.”
“No such thing as a cookie too pretty to eat.” Luke’s voice rose above the others as he reached for the red and white candycane-shaped cookie on the top.
“Coming in,” said Bob, as the decorated Christmas tree cookie caught his eye.
And then it was a free-for-all of hands and elbows until the box was down to a single sparse row of cookies.
Tucker lifted a card in the air. “This is from the Davenports. You’ll remember we got called out in the wee hours of the morning on this one about two months ago when that thunderstorm plowed through here. Lightning struck their house.”
Heads nodded.
“Keep in mind whether you were there that day or not, you are part of this team and these thanks go to every single person in this building. Listen up.”
Tucker pulled the card out and began reading it.
Dear Men and Women of our Chestnut Ridge Fire Department,
We want to take a moment to express our heartfelt gratitude for all of your efforts during the recent house fire at our home. You were all incredible and we are forever grateful.
We never imagined we’d experience such a tragedy and the thought of losing our home and everything in it was absolutely devastating. However, the quick response and efficient actions of your team contained the fire and minimized the damage.
We were impressed by the professionalism and compassion of each one of you. Seeing how you worked together as a team and put your lives at risk for the safety and well-being of our family was truly inspiring.
We know that we will never be able to fully express the depth of our gratitude. Our family will forever be indebted to you for your bravery, dedication, and commitment to serving our community.
We hope that our small words of thanks will offer you some sense of the appreciation that we feel. We made these Christmas cookies for you as a small token of our appreciation.
Again, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
We are forever grateful,
The Davenports
“Thank you for your service.” Tucker was as proud of them and the work they did together as he could imagine any father would be of his children. “Well done. We make a difference.”
“He’s getting all mushy up there. See. Happens to the best of us.”
The voice came from the middle of the crowd, and as folks stepped away, Tucker spotted who had yelled that. The old fire chief who had retired and promoted Tucker into the position.
“Chief Bowers,” Tucker yelled out. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”
The man walked forward, a slight limp on his right side. “No. I’m not the chief anymore. That’s all you now, Tucker. You make me proud.” Bowers shook Tucker’s hand.
Then, he turned to the group of people who stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of them. “You’ve done such a great job. Every person in this room helped this kid become a great leader.” Bowers clapped and everyone joined in. “Who knew me having faith in this kid, the youngest volunteer I ever allowed to go on the front line, would someday result in him becoming the youngest captain, and then the youngest chief. Well done, boy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tucker said.
“Hats off to all of you. You are all heroes in your own right.” A round of thank-yous came from the group. “I didn’t come to just bluster some attaboys to y’all, I have another reason to crash this party.”
Tucker had no idea what he was talking about.
Everyone got quiet.
“The food,” he said, raising his hands in the air. “This guy’s taken enough of your time. Let’s eat.”
“Grab your plates and then gather around,” Tucker said. “I want to go over the Christmas Tree Stroll with y’all and get a committee formed tonight. If we’re going to win this year, we have to really bring it.”
“We got robbed last year.”
“We did good, but you have to admit the winning tree was pretty awesome.” Tucker defended the winner, then went to the front of the line so he could eat first, then talk about the Christmas Tree Stroll while the others ate.
The noise climbed to a gregarious level in a hot hurry as the metal chafing dish lids clanked back and people chatted while filling their plates.
Once everyone had gotten their food and the room quieted down, Tucker took the mic again. “The Christmas Tree Stroll. Y’all listen up. I think we can just do a quick raise of hands on the type and height of the tree. I say we stake claim to the tallest short-needle tree available this year. All hands in favor?”
If every hand wasn’t in the air, he couldn’t tell whose wasn’t.
“Good. Looks like we’re all in agreement. Lessons learned from last year?” Tucker asked.
“We need to be careful with how heavy the ornaments are this year. Lighter ornaments, or wire them in place better. Last year we spent a ton of time picking up ornaments off the ground and trying to rehang them while people were coming through for the stroll. It was a nonstop effort, and it looked sloppy.”
“Good point. Others?”
“If we’re going tall again, we need to get the tree topper up first. Once everyone gets in there to decorate their trees, we can’t position a good-sized ladder to do it.”
“Good feedback. Any others? Or ideas for themes. We can go broader than fire trucks, you know.”
The ideas started blasting him from all sides.
“What if we did something with water?” “A great big bonfire?” “Yeah, and kids could roast marshmallows over it.” “Sending the wrong message y’all,” Tucker said. “No way.” “How about transportation in general?” Dixie Rogers said. “Trucks, cars, planes, and trains. I have my granddaddy’s train set in the attic. It’s too big for us to use around our tree. It’s a shame no one is putting it to good use. Even has the little steam puffs.”
“Now, that’s an idea.”
“If we do that, we could use real toy trucks, and let that be part of the gift giving at the end,” said Tommy Newton.
“And add those Breyer horses. That’s transportation too. Maybe a pink Barbie Corvette or two?”
“I like it.” If there was one thing Tucker could be confident in, it was that this group of people were never short on ideas. “I really like the idea of the ornaments doing double duty. And we definitely want to make it for boys and girls with that in mind. Maybe even somehow add a couple of scooters or bicycles into the design? Or is that too much?”
“No! I like that,” said Danny, who also owned the bike repair shop. “And I can order a case of shiny bicycle bells and streamers. They’d be festive. How’s that sound?”
“This is great. I think we have a plan. What kind of tree topper is going to at least get us an honorable mention this year?” Tucker scanned the group. “Come on. Get creative.”
“I still can’t believe we didn’t get one for the station helmet. That bedazzled thing glowed for a mile.”
Tucker had to agree. It had taken Doris a long time to put together too. “Maybe we can still tuck that bedazzled helmet in the tree. Put a partridge or two turtledoves in it or something.”
Doris looked pleased with the idea.
“How about we rig up Santa on a sleigh cruising around the top?” “North Star?” “Snow machine?” “If we’re doing transportation, we could do checkered flags or stop lights.”
“Santa on a tiny trike? I have one in the back of the store we could use,” said Danny. “Not sure what it would take to prop it up there, though.”
“How big is it?” “It’s a push deal, for a tiny tot. Plastic. It doesn’t weigh much.” “Can we paint it?” “Sure.”
“How about brightly colored balloons instead of Santa on the trike?” someone hollered out.
“Maybe the tricycle underneath the tree with eight tiny fire trucks pulling it?” “I like that a lot. I can help work on that,” said Tommy Newton.
“Great. Santa on a trike isn’t something I’ve ever seen. Eight tiny fire trucks each with a name across the windshield like we have Bull Mountain Boys on ours. Either way seems we’re on the path to a cooler idea than whatever the flower shop comes up with this year. I think GG’s is our biggest competition.”
“We need something electronic on it.”
“Josh and I can help with that. We could make the whole thing spin, or since we have the train around the bottom, maybe we do some kind of chasing lights down the tree that give the impression the train is chugging through it.”
“Okay, I need two people to head up the committee and get y’all all scheduled to help out.”
“I can help,” Doris said.
“Me too,” said Tommy.
“Great. So y’all see Tommy or Doris before next week to get your names on the schedule. We need eight team members for on-site decorating, but like last year we can have people prefab things here at the station before they go over to assemble. We’ll need more hands on deck to wrap gifts after the trees are judged if we decide to make every ornament an actual gift.”
“I like that idea,” said one. “Me too,” others agreed.
“Got that, Tommy and Doris? Extra hands the night following the awards.”
Doris said, “We’re going to win this year!”
Enthusiasm spread through the firehouse.
“Now we’re thinking,” said Tucker. “We’ll email out a sketch once the team has a plan pulled together in case anyone has any other suggestions to add. That’s it. Good night.”
Chairs screeched, and everyone pitched in to box up leftovers for distribution and the firehouse freezer for the next potluck.
Once the station cleared out, Tucker flipped all the light switches and secured the building, grabbing the Styrofoam trays, one with food and the other with goodies, that Doris had put together for him like she always did. He walked outside to his truck at the far end of the now-empty lot.
He could picture the transportation-themed Christmas tree. Bright yellow construction trucks, a multitude of tiny shiny race cars, trains, planes, horses, and scooters could pull double duty as decorations. Shiny handlebar bells and neon streamers to add some whimsy, and wouldn’t it be fun to rig up small battery-operated spinning tricycle wheels with cards in the spokes for sound?
Tucker felt his excitement build. They might not even need any regular colored balls on this year’s entry. This idea also happened to fit right in with his favorite song, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Each team created a sign to post next to their tree, and he could use a router to etch the words “99 Ways to Get Home for Christmas” on theirs. Ninety-nine toy vehicles or modes of transportation should be enough to fill the biggest tree in the competition, which was always theirs. Since some of the items were big, if they couldn’t fit all ninety-nine on the tree, a few under the tree would work too.
Ninety-nine gifts for kids in our county.
Public safety in Chestnut Ridge was the most important thing in his life, but knowing there’d be ninety-nine more smiling faces on Christmas morning, thanks to the generosity and kindness of his team of firefighters, was overwhelmingly precious.
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