What is the secret
of Miranda’s postcard?
Discover the answer in What the Heart Knows.
Here are some clues...
From Miranda’s waking-thoughts...
Today, however, the paintbrush twitched in her hand. Unable to do any
real work, she moved to the built-in desk that ran the length of the
windowed wall in her studio and picked up the stack of postcards. They
featured her own miniature watercolor— one of the first non-wildlife
pieces she’d done in quite a while.
The printer had done a good job, she decided. The color looked true,
the proportion appealing. Main Street stretched away to the ocean, pines
rose along the edges to touch a blue sky. It hadn’t seemed complete
till she printed the town’s name in pale lettering like scripted
clouds. And she hadn’t been able to resist placing in the foreground
the lovely gallery that handled her work.
She’d created the tiny painting and had it made into postcards
for practical purposes—letting people know about her work. She’d
already sent them to her short list: a few friends, her always-supportive
sister, her ever-skeptical parents, and of course Zelda, who’d
help with a business contact list.
But there was something else about the postcards too. She liked the
crisp edges and bright image, felt in it the vibrancy of the little
place she now called home. Somehow the town had a heartbeat that matched
her own, and the postcard took its pulse. If the universe had fulfilled
a promise to her, this little card was her thankyou note.
The phone rang again. She stared at it, then decided to answer.
“Darling! It’s me!”
Knowing the voice after the first syllable, Miranda said, “Hi,
Zelda.”
“Well, it’s simply the most brilliant thing you’ve
ever done. The postcard is sensational. I want you to send me a thousand
immediately.”
“A thousand? But I—”
“You have more marketing sense than you’ve ever let on,
Miranda. This is going to turn the tide.”
From Miranda’s dream-thoughts...
Wind rose off still-dark water, scudded across waves, lifted over bluffs
and rustled through trees, carrying the scent of ocean and pine into
Miranda’s bedroom. She inhaled the aromas into her sleep where
they blended with her dream.
A canopy of stars sparkled overhead through a perfect circle of tall,
sheltering branches. Where am I? A high, protected place, waves
lapping below, perfect stillness arcing overhead. A safe place that
welcomed and understood.
Yes, this is the place.
Long ago—as long ago as childhood—she had written the words:
where mountains meet ocean, where art meets science, where heart
meets heart. Later in her teenage diary, she’d drawn three
pictures: a mountain at the edge of a sea; the moon reflected in a well;
two overlapping hearts. Even then, she’d known someday the drawings
would become paintings.
She’d captured the mountain-ocean image first, earth contours
rising to a sculpted ridge, then plunging into the sea, tall pines spearing
up from the bluff, boulders anchored offshore.
Then there’d been that unplanned drive south. She’d happened
upon the very coastal profile she’d envisioned, the place choosing
her as much as she’d chosen it. It had drawn her to her new home,
to Milford-Haven. Within the year, she’d moved.
The voices of reason had objected. If you want to be an artist,
go to New York, not to some out-of-the-way place where no one will ever
discover you. But the heart knew.
No one had understood why she had to leave. She’d come anyway.
In a sense she’d painted her new home into existence, imagined
it so clearly it had emerged from the infinite beyond and taken tangible
form.
But here, now, this high, windswept place—it was new. It was
one of the places she had yet to paint. This was an introduction, then,
a flight forward in time or space, a preview reserved for this dream
from which she didn’t want to wake.
Wind caressed her cheek, riffled her hair. And then, she was in his
embrace.
  When
I first created my fictitious town of MilfordHaven, it immediately became
my spiritual home. The first thing I needed was a visual image that
would capture the heart of my little town. The late Warren Talcott was
famous throughout California’s Central Coast for his pen-and-ink
drawings. When he first created the drawing for my radio drama, the
poster we put up would disappear by the end of the day! Thus this image
has been a collector’s item from day one. So we offer the original
black-and-white image as originally created. For the new edition of
“What the Heart Knows” we also have a stunning new full-color
version of the art by graphic artist Kelly Havsjold. One more special
thing about this particular postcard is that it actually exists in the
novel. To find out what I mean, you’ll have to read the book!
Directions for printing postcards:
After downloading the postcards you choose, you may purchase Avery 5389
Postcards (works for both inkjet and laser pritners). Print the document
exactly as it is on side one. Reinsert the page upside-down and backwards,
and print side two. You will have two perfectly printed postcards that
easily separate at the pre-perforated lines. |
