Curious what my upcoming book is all about? Here’s a little cliffhanger — a glimpse into one of the true stories that inspired me to write Compassionate Connections. It’s only the beginning… but it might leave you with a few questions.

Chapter Six - Different Frequencies

My husband, Roland, and I rented a little farmhouse in the Hawaiian Homestead. Like most homes there, it was built on stilts, leaving a wide open space underneath. Around the house, our landlord kept several cows grazing in the pasture. We had a large carport, a few fruit trees, and a wild patch of grass that passed for a lawn. The property was simple, but full of life—the air carried the smell of rain, the sound of crickets, and the soft lowing of cattle in the evenings. From the gate to the house stretched a long gravel driveway, and that’s where my story begins. 

Because of our different work schedules, Roland and I slept in separate bedrooms, both facing the front of the house. Every so often, I would hear what sounded like footsteps coming from the gate toward the house. At first, I thought nothing of it. Wild pigs roamed freely, and it wasn’t unusual for them to wander across the driveway. What I didn’t know then was that Roland had heard those same footsteps too. 

One night, Roland seemed restless. I heard distinct steps coming from the kitchen toward our bedrooms—slow, deliberate, almost human. Again, I tried not to think much of it, though something about the rhythm of those steps made my heart race. 

The next morning, I asked him, “You didn’t sleep well, did you?”

He looked puzzled. “Actually, I slept fine,” he said. 

I mentioned the footsteps from the gate, and to my surprise, his face changed. He admitted he’d heard them too.