I should have known, when I was eight and had triplet sisters, a crazy old neighbor in a big, spooky house, and a wild red-haired girl as a best friend, that my childhood might be less than normal. It started with Bud, the old man next door. He introduced me to gardening, showed me how to be a gentleman, and talked about God. Then came Molly, the girl. Yes, say it with emphasis: The Girl. She brought me to life, called forth my inner hero, and occasionally crushed my soul. Nobody in the world could mess with my heart like Molly. And family, the final prong of my adolescence. Sisters and more sisters. A birth injury that made my mother—and everyone else—keep a distance, and a whole lot of angst. They drove me to garden during most daylight hours, because dirt and plants were quiet and calm, and nothing else around me was either. Time passed. I didn’t realize I’d become the glue in my relationships, the knight to slay everyone’s dragons, and the sounding board for their problems. I only knew I was the one person they forgot to see when they went through hardships. When they went down, I dragged them back to the surface. If I went down, I figured nobody would notice. I sure never suspected that, if I went down, I could take the whole lot of them with me. Terry’s Garden, stories about a huge family, an enchanting garden, and a love story that touches generations. Christian coming-of-age/romance novels for teens and anyone who remembers what it’s like to take those first wobbling steps into adulthood. Read more