Patricia Sweet, author of the newly released There is a River, traces her writing roots to a childhood poem published in the Grand Island Dispatch. Growing up in a bustling family of ten, Sweet found her voice through writing when spoken words were often drowned out by her quick-witted younger brothers. Her breakthrough moment came with a short story publication in the Buffalo News, establishing her legitimacy in the literary world. Sweet’s writing philosophy centers on honesty, clarity, and imagination, drawing inspiration from careful observation of people and life experiences.
There is a River represents Sweet’s most intimate work to date, exploring themes of faith and resilience. The novel follows Carly, whose stable Christian life is upended when her husband’s behavior toward a newly baptized church member raises unsettling questions. An excerpt reveals Sweet’s skilled handling of complex religious and interpersonal dynamics within a close-knit faith community.
“I hope readers take away the sense that no matter what comes against them, God is greater,” Sweet says, emphasizing her belief in spiritual guidance during adversity.
Readers can connect with Patricia Sweet through her website (PatriciaSweetcom.wordpress.com), Facebook author page, or subscribe to her newsletter at [email protected].
Excerpt from There is a River
Chapter 1 – Point of No Return
Everyone clapped except for Carly as her husband lowered the pretty divorcée into the river. The elders’ wives on the beach joined hands to pray for their newest sister, but Carly stood apart, studying the girl’s face. As far as she could tell, the joy there was genuine, no secrets clouding her big blue eyes.
Rick’s expression, however, was far more complicated. He took the hand of his first new convert in ages, leading her to shore as if she were a princess and he a prince. While the congregation sang “Amazing Grace,” Carly held out her hand to the tall blonde, shivering in the June breeze. If she could only talk to the girl, get to know her a little, the tightness in her chest might release. Too late. Rick drew her away from the crowd, the two of them locked in private conversation.
The brethren were all smiles as they waited to be dismissed. A few had already drifted from the little patch of sand to the backyard of Carly and Rick’s riverfront home. Rick’s secretary stood on the patio with a tray of food. From the water’s edge, Carly called, “Wait, Keri Ann, I can do that!”
“No need, kid. I’ve got it. Relax. You look tired.”
Carly was tired, but the last time she’d zoned out, she lost track of her five-year-old. Ten minutes later she found him up shore at the state marina, watching a yachter backing his trailer onto the launch pad. Now, the boy had just slipped out of view again. The rest of the church kids were digging moats in the sand, but as usual, little Benny wasn’t among them. Carly ran along the waterfront calling his name, her voice raw.
“Carly, if you’re looking for Benny, he’s inside.”
Her heartbeat slowing, Carly thanked her husband’s secretary as well as the angel she was convinced had been assigned to protect her little boy.
“No problem. Take it easy—you don’t look so good.”
Carly tugged at her stained sweatshirt. No, she did not. If there was one person who looked fantastic on that chilly spring day, it was their brand-new sister. She’d come to the event in a tailored pink blouse and tight white jeans, both now dripping wet. Oh, yeah. Towels. Something else Carly had forgotten. Rick lifted the new sister’s hand high. “Now, everyone, please make Serena feel welcome!”
The faithful of New Wine Fellowship shouted “Alleluia!” and “Praise the Lord!” in response, but when their backs were turned, he caught this Serena up in a bear hug that lasted a little too long. No—way too long.
Those remaining on the beach high-fived each other, celebrating one more soul entering the Kingdom of God. Apparently, none of them had noticed the affection her husband had just lavished on the attractive young woman. Or perhaps, like Carly, they simply wished they hadn’t.
Carly looked at the sky. Geese heading toward Canada formed an imperfect V. What was that psalm about wanting wings to fly? Twenty years ago, when the idea of living like the Christians in the Book of Acts was new and exciting, Rick hugging some girl who’d thanked him gratuitously for a sermon he’d preached or a word of encouragement he’d given her would have seemed normal. Those days were long gone.
Carly’s reminiscence was interrupted when Rick announced to the stragglers on the beach that it was time to eat.
From the patio, where she’d laid out a spread of fancy sandwiches and pie, Keri Ann shouted for Rick. “Pastor, we’re waiting for you to say the blessing!”
Rick shot Carly a look. “Are you coming?”
“Maybe later.”
“I want you to join us.”
“I will—in a minute.”
Honestly, Carly just wished they’d all go home. Hanging out with church people had become exhausting. For years, the group of aging Jesus freaks who’d formed the New Wine Fellowship had been growing further and further apart. Rick, of course, attributed this to her overactive imagination. Perhaps. But one thing she had not imagined was all the lost time and money that her husband could never explain.
Rick’s movie-star features registered saintly tolerance as he turned his attention from his wife to the elders. Last year, a few of these men had taken him aside to mention that they felt Carly had been acting strangely—detached, depressed. They suggested that she might benefit from professional help.
Her husband had chosen to lay these concerns on her last December, right before Christmas, just as she had finally gotten in the mood to decorate the house.
“I wanted to wait until after the holidays to tell you, but there’s been talk.”
Carly heard her favorite ornament crunch underneath her as she collapsed on the couch. “About what?”
“That you might need a shrink.” The broken bulb pierced her skin, causing her to jolt upright. “Why?”
He shrugged. “You avoid people. They think you’re depressed.”
“Do you think so?” She dabbed the cut.
It had taken him a minute to answer. “Well, I do think you get all worked up over nothing sometimes. And as far as your ‘I want to be alone’ act, I assume you’re a different person at work.”
He had been wrong on both accounts. The missing money was not “nothing”—and neither was the way he failed to show up at places he said he’d be. And Carly acted no differently at the hospital than she did anywhere else, even though she’d taken a hit for it. As a pastor’s wife, she’d been excluded from jokes and happy hours. That hadn’t done much for her social life, but at least at the hospital she’d felt like part of a team.
When she failed to respond that day, he added, “I know what you do can be stressful.”
“Maybe I should quit,” she murmured, so low that he might not have heard. If she quit nursing, they’d never be able to pay their bills.
He’d heard her, alright. “Be serious, Carly. Anyway, I smoothed it over, but I thought you should know. People are talking.”
As if she hadn’t known. She’d stopped going to Wednesday night meetings when the prayers began sounding too much like gossip. And if anyone ever heard her most fervent prayer that her husband would come clean about a few things in his life that weren’t adding up, it just might jeopardize his ministry.
But the elders were right about her avoiding people. To keep the peace, she’d agreed to see a doctor, and he’d lost no time diagnosing her with anxiety and mild depression. As she’d anticipated, the most the drugs he’d prescribed did was help her pack on ten extra pounds.
After the baptism, Carly wandered to the end of the dock, shook off her sandals, and sat, dangling her feet over the water. Her toes tapped the surface of the freezing river, which had just reached the high-water mark. Weeks ago, the mighty Niagara had been clogged with ice. When she was a kid, she and her sisters dared each other to stand barefoot in the slush until, one at a time, the older two wimped out. Her father had said, “That’s my Carly, never knowing when to . . .”
What, Pop, quit? Maybe he had been right. If she quit nursing or even went part-time, she’d at least have more time for her sons. After moving to Grand Island, Nathan hadn’t adjusted well in the new school; he needed her just as much as little Benny did. But the church’s income barely covered the mortgage on their building. For a congregation of loyal tithers, this shouldn’t have been a problem, but recently Rick had begun seriously neglecting his books. The last time Carly had snuck a look, the ledger hadn’t been written in for months.
He’d defended himself. “You try heating the place, fixing the pipes, printing programs, and all that after paying the note every month.”
“But didn’t we hire Keri Ann to keep track of that stuff?”
“There you go again, blaming Keri Ann. I told you not to involve her! She’s got enough to deal with.” Whatever that meant—and it still didn’t explain the missing money.
High-pitched laughter blew out to Carly at the end of the dock. She’d shared the purest joy possible with a few of these happy women after assisting them in childbirth. She’d praised God while handing them their newborn babies. Even after thirteen years of waiting for her second child, Carly had done her best to rejoice each time her sisters had their next. But her efforts to maintain these relationships evidently hadn’t been enough. The women had drifted so far away from her that Carly couldn’t imagine calling one of them to chat or even just to ask for prayer.
Her toes, all blue and stiff, were now officially numb. The right thing for the pastor’s wife to do right now was to get up and help Keri Ann serve lunch, but a memory held her in place.
When Nathan had been Benny’s age, a sister from church whose home birth Carly had attended took her out to lunch to let her know she was once again pregnant. “
Carly, I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.” Throat tight, Carly squeaked out a response. “So, how far along are you?”
“About ten weeks. Enough about me—how are you doing? It must be great with Nate in kindergarten. All that free time! I’d die for some.”
“Sure. Free time.”
Every woman in the fellowship knew how desperately Carly had wanted another child. But at least this sister had taken the time to share her news in person—truly an act of kindness.
As they chatted, the door of the Spot Café swung open and two more young mothers from church breezed in, one with a newborn strapped to her chest. “Looks like we all had the same idea!” They hugged and kissed their pregnant friend, confessing that they’d already heard she was expecting. The conversation immediately shifted to maternity clothes, jolly jumpers, and highchairs. When Carly said goodbye and slipped away, the others barely noticed. That was the first of her many vanishing acts.
From the end of the dock, Carly looked across the river to Buffalo, the city where she’d spent most of her married life. Out of habit, she avoided the sight of the Huntly Plant, an abandoned factory that had been crumbling to dust since she could remember. Its windows were like eyes, its boarded-up door like an angry mouth. This monstrous building had fascinated her as a child. She’d sit where she was now and imagine herself perched atop its ancient smokestack, far away from family, friends, everyone. It had seemed like the loneliest place in the universe. Almost as lonely as she’d felt at that moment. Looking instead at a patch of sunbeams twinkling on the waves, she noticed something floating among them— a rowboat? Funny. That wasn’t there a second ago.
Inside the boat sat a person peering straight at her, a man, she thought. Whoever it was seemed to recognize her. But while shielding her eyes to get a better look, the boat, the man, the whole thing disappeared. How could a man in a boat be here one minute and gone the next? Was this another product of her imagination? If so, she was farther gone than she realized.
No. She was sure she’d seen a boat with someone inside, watching her. His eyes had met hers. Her legs wobbling, she ran back to the house.
Whatever had just happened, she’d wait until they were alone to mention it to Rick. There was an outside chance he’d take her seriously. More likely, he’d dismiss it as the result of too many nightshifts and remind her that their vacation was just weeks away.
As if this annual campout at Allegany State Park was any kind of break for Carly. If Rick had a minute to listen—really listen to her in between consoling newly divorced women, writing sermons, and conducting church business—she’d set him straight. What he called “a time of refreshment in the Lord” was more stressful to her than a baby coming out feet first. In fact, she’d take work any day over camp. At least at the hospital, she didn’t feel invisible.
Camp had gotten even tougher since she had Benny. Last year, a mother had taken her aside. “I’m telling you, Carly, if you ignore the boy’s odd behavior, you’re going to end up with a real problem on your hands.”
Why? Because he didn’t say “please” and “thank you” when she handed out the crayons? Carly might have confessed that Benny was still working on calling her “Mommy,” but she’d deferred to the sister, hoping to cut the conversation short. Alas, no such luck.
“And he’s so much younger than Nate that he might as well be an only child, so I’m sure he spends too much time in his own little world.”
“Yes. That’s why we bring him to camp.”
“It doesn’t seem to be working.” When Benny was a toddler, Carly had tried setting up playdates with other mothers, but after getting together once or twice, the others failed to accept her invitations. Their excuses were sincere, as most were busy running their older kids to soccer and ballet.
She no longer had much in common with these women. As far as getting together as couples, unless Rick was there, forget it. With all of that in mind, the last place she wanted to spend this precious week off from work was with a bunch of happy parents and their normally developing children. If there’d been one person there she considered a true friend, it would have changed everything. She’d hoped to make a connection with one of the survivors of a local church split who’d been attending New Wine, but the new people tended to stick together. She didn’t blame them. Being new at their church was almost as tough as being old and disregarded.
With the post-baptism picnic finally over, the last family packed up their minivan and took off. Carly perched anxiously on a lawn chair, deciding whether to tell Rick what she’d seen out on the river. If he wrote it off as her being mentally unbalanced, she’d be in no worse shape than she was now, she supposed. And who knew? If he thought it had to do with the spiritual realm, it might lead to an actual adult conversation—their first in ages.
Keri Ann marched outside, her sunglasses pushed up on her head. She handed Rick a plate of sandwiches, warning him no leftovers were allowed. Carly joined him at the table. When their secretary went back inside, she took a deep breath and spoke. “Rick, I saw something out in the river today, and I don’t know if it was real or …”
“Or what? Your imagination?”
“Well, yeah. I saw a man in a boat.”
“Big deal.” Rick pointed to her sandwich. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Take it.” Carly leaned close, her voice a whisper. “But then it all disappeared.”
He washed down the sandwich with some punch. “Maybe you need your prescriptions filled.”
“No.” Not a lie. She had plenty of pills. She’d just stopped taking them.
“Maybe you should go back to that doctor—what was his name?”
“Dolittle.” She waited for him to chuckle, but instead he grabbed the last sandwich. Either he was no longer listening or he hadn’t gotten the joke.
So much for an adult conversation … forget him. Forget all of them. Whatever had happened out in the river was something she’d need to deal with on her own.
She reached over to pluck a dying blossom from the rickety old trellis. “When I think of how my mother used to baby these roses … she’d spend a whole afternoon picking out each little bug.”
“What?”
“This bush. Look, it’s infested.” Carly turned over the leaf, revealing a cluster of tiny insects.
“To tell the truth, I’ve never even noticed the thing.”
Rick never noticed a lot of things. If he’d been out on the dock with her earlier, he might have looked right past that man in the boat. He wouldn’t even have even seen it. Maybe the vision, if that’s what it was, had been just for her.
Since her parents had given her the house on the river, her husband had never once gotten up early to watch the sun rise over Strawberry Island or remarked on how perfectly the water reflected an overcast sky, the kind of details Carly had always loved about this place. She plucked another fading blossom and laid it between them. “You used to love to bring me flowers.”
“Tell you what, I’ll buy some bug spray next time I’m at True Value.”
Petals scattered when Keri Ann kicked open the screen door. She set a half-eaten pie in front of Rick. “Remember what I said? No leftovers allowed.” Tilting her head, she asked, “Carly, is something the matter?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You look … stressed.” She patted Carly’s hand and smiled. “Ricky, Ben’s watching cartoons on cable. Is that OK?”
“No. Put in a tape—Veggie Tales or something.”
Keri Ann rushed back inside, and Rick cut a slice of pie. “The kid’s going to have to get used to no TV at all in a few weeks.”
Right. Family camp. Carly hadn’t planned on bringing this up, but this was as good a time as any. She brushed the remains of the rose off the table. “Listen, Rick, I might have to skip camp this year.”
“Oh? How come?”
“A midwife I know asked me to help her deliver a set of twins, and her due date falls on the Fourth of July. Of course, no one knows exactly when they’ll arrive, but I’ll need to be on call.” At least part of this was true.
Between bites of tart rhubarb, Rick said, “OK, if that’s the deal … whatever works.”
That sure was easy. Apparently, not having her around worked fine for him. Whatever. She was glad to be off the hook.
Camping with the church had not always been such an ordeal. Spending a week at Allegany over the Fourth of July was the first thing she and Rick had done with the gang of new believers they’d met while on the road nearly twenty years ago. Back then every day had been a celebration, all of them praying, dancing, and worshipping the Lord.
Allegany was where Carly had received the vision to finish her nurse’s training and Rick had firmed up his plan to go into ministry. The brethren pooled their meager funds, rented a storefront, and before they knew it, The House of Light was the hottest thing going on the Elmwood Strip. On any given night, fifty or sixty people would crowd inside to hang out and hear Rick preach.
A core group formed, and Rick was voted head elder. Soon, most of them paired off, got married, and started having babies. Carly herself became pregnant with Nate. All the women were close at first, but as their husbands found better jobs and moved to the suburbs, things changed. As the working mother of one who still lived in the city, Carly no longer fit in. It was proclaimed a miracle thirteen years later when she gave birth to Benny, but by then the women at the fellowship were planning high school graduations, and then there was Carly, still hauling around a diaper bag.
No matter. Having Benny had been a huge blessing, though at five, he’d been reaching his developmental milestones very late. Carly wasn’t sure what to do. Take him to a doctor? Fast and pray? Nothing at all? Her husband had made it clear he’d picked option three.
The day before the Fourth of July, Carly lifted Benny’s pail out of his sandbox and out wiggled a tiny snake. She jumped. The poor little critter must have been sunning himself. Still, it shocked her. Her older son, Nathan, honked the horn. “Come on, Mom! I don’t want to be late.”
Late? Really? The best thing about camping was not having to worry about time. Most women would be ecstatic that their seventeen-year-old couldn’t wait to get to family camp while his friends were celebrating the holiday by drinking and getting high. Carly did consider Nate’s loyalty to the family a gift. Especially this year, since he’d promised to help watch Benny. She’d offered to keep the boy home with her, but Rick insisted on showing up with both of his sons.
In truth, the three messages on their answering machine from the newest member of the congregation, Serena Petrick, complaining about spending a whole week without plumbing or central air had unsettled Carly more than the snake. After the last message, Carly pressed the call-back button and almost told Miss Serena if she wanted to steal her husband, fine, but so much for her new life in Christ. It was one or the other—Jesus or Rick. But that was crazy talk. She put down the phone and reset the machine.
“Mom, it doesn’t feel right leaving you behind like this” Her son squeezed her hand through the driver’s seat window. “Are you sure you’re going to be OK?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I’m fine, and I’ll be there before you know it. Take good care of Benny.”
While Nathan tried to get his brother to wave goodbye, Carly envisioned unfastening the car seat, grabbing her little boy, and just taking off.
“I love you, Mom. I bet you’re lonely without us.”
“If the delivery is simple, I’ll be down soon.”
Nathan looked away. Apparently, her smile was not doing the trick. He’d always been insightful, and his eyes had a way of betraying his heart. Right now, they were telling Carly that he knew she was lying. There would be no delivery, she would not be down soon, and she’d failed him—again.
“Goodbye, Mom. Take care of yourself.” Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and the two loves of her life were gone. The migraine she’d been trying to pray away stabbed her behind the eyes. If she could only explain why she needed to stay home, Nate might have understood. But the kid already had enough to worry about, and he might have let their secret slip.
She swallowed two Ibuprofen and cleared off the papers on her bed. Since all her husband had had to offer about what she’d seen in the river was a reminder to take her meds, she’d set her mind to learn all she could about visions, apparitions, and people popping up out of nowhere.
The day before, Carley had scoured the resources at the Grand Island Library, but nothing turned up that she hadn’t already read in the Bible or accessed online. Most of the non-biblical texts blamed such experiences on hoaxes, drugs, or tricks of the mind. A hoax was out of the question, and it had been almost twenty years since she’d ingested anything stronger than communion wine. That left tricks of the mind—in other words, seeing things that weren’t there.
In nursing school she’d studied mental illnesses, and this one, commonly known as schizophrenia, was not her problem. She’d been diagnosed as mildly depressed, but since she always managed to get herself off to work and home again—at that point, at least—she’d been successfully holding things together. And since her days as a student, she had enjoyed conducting research. Chasing down an explanation for what she’d witnessed in the river had proved an intriguing diversion. At least it had been something to do besides worry.
Though yesterday’s deep dive had been disappointing, the time had not been wasted. She’d literally bumped into an old friend on the sidewalk outside the town hall. Late for her last day of work, she’d run smack into Janine Spinner.
“Carly La Nova, no way!” The woman took her hand and put the other one on Carly’s no-longer-twenty-fourinch waist.
“Janine?”
“What are you doing on the island?”
“We live here now. My parents moved to Florida and gave us the house. How about you? Last I knew, you were in Texas.”
“A few of us come back every year for an unofficial reunion. I suppose you’re still married to … ?”
“Rick? Yes.”
“And you still go to that … ?”
“New Wine Fellowship, yes.” Carly’s lips began to quiver. She tried to speak but instead moaned, “Oh, Janine, I’ve been so lonely.”
