Town of Lumby
About the town of Lumby:
"One could describe Lumby as one would describe, with unreserved fondness, their own small town in our vast and diverse country: quaint, with enough quirk to make it interesting. It is a town that holds strong to the belief that the oldest apple tree in the country is firmly rooted on the corner of Cherry Street and Farm to Market Road, and a town that reacted adversely when one of their more entrepreneurial youths put the tree up for auction on the Internet two summers ago." -- excerpt from The Lumby Lines
Animated bee
Montis Abbey monastery in Lumby
About the monastery:
"The Montis Abbey compound was originally built as a monastery in 1893, one of the older in our country, and it sheltered an order of as many twenty-eight monks at its most active peak in the last century. At that time Farm to Market Road was a narrow dirt lane for horse-drawn carts that came to a small village north of Woodrow Lake (close to what is now the town of Lumby) for fishing and trade. While making their dusty way along the lake, travelers would stop by the abbey for food and lodging, knowing that the monks were a hospitable, albeit quiet, lot." -- excerpt from The Lumby Lines
Chapter 13 of The Lumby Lines
Excerpt from Chapter 13:
That same week Joshua came with a puppy in hand, a slightly larger yellow Lab littermate, which Mark and Pam named Cutter. So life was very good at Montis. The inn was framed, the orchard was producing fruit, and Clipper and Cutter were assisting by chewing on power cords, running off with tool belts almost too heavy for them to drag, and eating small scraps under the picnic table.
Pam especially appreciated these times, for she could separate herself, if only temporarily, from the worry that was always with her. She knew how fragile the balance was between happiness and tragedy, and how there are very few times in life when all of the levers were up: when the bills were paid, the dogs were fed, her husband and friends were healthy, and the tomatoes were ripe. But she also knew that in a split second one of those levers could trip, and adversity would rush in and flood their lives. That was one of the reasons she married Mark; he always unconditionally believed that the levers would stay up indefinitely, permanently. She so envied the freedom that that optimism gave him.

And it was the Fourth of July weekend, as fun and wondrous in Lumby as in any small town across the country.

What Mark and Pam would always remember most from that weekend had little to do with the holiday celebrations, and more to do with an illegal entry that Mark felt Sheriff Dixon would understand if they had been caught in the act.
On Monday, the fifth of July, well before dawn while the town still slept off the prior night's festivities, Pam and Mark quietly drove up Farm to Market Road. Just before coming into Lumby, they turned off their car lights and pulled into the parking lot of the First Presbyterian Church.

Although they had always intended to become members as soon as their lives settled down, they had not yet talked to the minister. Nor had they even visited this church, which proved to be a significant disadvantage that morning. In the darkness before dawn, Mark and Pam walked around the chapel, first trying the primary doors, which were all locked, then the secondary doors.

"I thought churches were always open," Pam whispered.

"They must be giving God a break at night," Mark said.

Circling the chapel a second time, they began to check the windows. On the backside of the sanctuary, Mark fell into a window well that was hidden behind an enormous shrub.

"Jesus," he cried out as his shoulder glanced off the metal rim.

"Shhh," Pam quieted him. She looked around, waiting for a light to come on in the pastor's residence, but it remained dark.

"Try the window before you crawl out," Pam reminded him.

Although Mark would have never gone down into the well intentionally, it was good fortune that he stumbled into it because he found a large window unlocked. With gentle maneuvering, he made his way in, then took several minutes to locate the side entrance.

"This place is gorgeous," Mark said, holding the door open for Pam, Clipper and Cutter.

"How do you know? It's pitch-black inside."

"No, it's not. There are a couple of nightlights in the back of the chapel. Come see," he said excitedly, and led the way with the puppies acting very unlike themselves - remaining quiet and staying close by.

They walked to the front of the chapel, which was dimly lit as Mark had said. Pam opened the satchel she was carrying and took out several large candles, placing them on the steps leading up to the altar. Mark followed immediately behind and lit one after another. And then they waited. 		Lumby Lines Sheriff's Complaints
As the gentle light of dawn began to illuminate the stained glass windows that surrounded them, Mark and Pam finally faced each other, took each other's hands, and in soft words repeated the vows that they had said to one another twenty years ago to the day and to the hour in a small Presbyterian church in Massachusetts.
The Lumby Lines
Lumby bookstore window