Cindy Bradford, Ph.D., Author

Cindy Bradford's Author Blog

Cindy Bradford

Keeping Faith: Chapter 1 Part 1

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Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 2)

chapter 1

Boston, 1962

Patrick woke, startled, hearing a rustling noise. Reaching quickly to push back the heavy canvas, he found it zipped closed. Darkness swallowed him. In the airless, musty pup tent, he felt trapped. Sweat beaded on his forehead, when suddenly he heard another sound and felt the presence of someone.

“Shh.”

Then Patrick felt a body pressing against him and a clammy hand cover his mouth. [Read more…] about Keeping Faith: Chapter 1 Part 1

I’m Not Asleep But I’m Not Awake

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Cindy Bradford can't sleep
I need some zzzz's

If you had told me as a teenager that someday I would have trouble sleeping, I would have told you that you were crazy. After all, in those days, I could easily sleep until noon, eat lunch, and take a quick nap before starting my Saturday. But then, as a teenager, I would have said a lot of things in the future were crazy and not going to ever happen to me! [Read more…] about I’m Not Asleep But I’m Not Awake

Keeping Faith: Prologue

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Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 1)

prologue

East Texas, 1991

Faith O’Brien had been looking for her father for as long as she could remember. From a slight glance out of her upstairs bedroom window at a lone passerby to a concentrated scrutiny of familiar faces she saw each autumn Friday night in the crowded wooden bleachers of the high school stadium, she searched. With a single, faded black and white photograph that she took often from a worn little box that held her only other connection to him–a tiny gold ring he had given her mother the first year they dated, she had tried to picture him, studying every tiny detail of the handsome nineteen year old boy with a crooked grin, leaning against an old, but shiny Oldsmobile. [Read more…] about Keeping Faith: Prologue

Wonder Where Gary Lynn Went?

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Gary Lynn?

A friend, who knows me well and read Keeping Faith, said she thinks she has me figured out as to why I like to write and spin stories. She said it is because as a kid I played by myself a lot and had an invisible friend. She may be on to something because I did play by myself a great deal because there were no other kids my age in the neighborhood and no cousins or siblings close to my age. [Read more…] about Wonder Where Gary Lynn Went?

Promises Kept Gone to Press

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Promises Kept by Cindy Bradford
Promises Kept by Cindy Bradford

Thought you might like to know that the sequel has gone to press, and the waiting begins. No wonder my hair is falling out! Now it’s anybody’s guess when it will actually be released, but if it follows a similar timeframe as Keeping Faith, then hopefully it will be out by mid-April. Here’s another sneak preview… [Read more…] about Promises Kept Gone to Press

I Miss My Parents Most When I Travel

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I miss my parents the most when I travel, because I know how they would have liked to hear of my adventures. I hadn’t traveled a great deal when they both died, but when I did it was an equal adventure for them. They couldn’t wait for my calls and for me to relate what I had done each day.

I realize now they were living that part of their lives through me, and enjoying what they were never really able to do. They did travel in the States, Mexico and Canada, but never ventured further than that. I get my “go” gene from my dad who would have taken off to lands unknown, but mother was most comfortable at home.  Dad always dreamed of going to see the Holy Land; Mother couldn’t imagine being on an airplane that long, (actually she hated flying anywhere) and when they were finally financially able to go, they were past the age where they would attempt it.

It’s just as well. I know now that Mother would have hijacked the plane after the first four hours and demanded the pilot land somewhere, anywhere fast, so she could get on the first bus home.

No, they were best at home, waiting for my calls, anticipating what my next place would be, living vicariously through me. And that’s okay because I never travel that they are not on my mind. I take pictures of the scenery and think of them. I eat a new dish in a foreign country and know Daddy would not have agreed that it was good—after all it wasn’t “Momma’s cooking. I drag my bags behind me looking for someone who speaks English to tell me the right direction to go, and know that would have made them uncomfortable.

But, I thank them for giving me a sense of adventure, of courage to go to new places and see new things, most of the time as an independent traveler. And I know they are watching over me when I veer off my path.