“What adorable child is gracing the cover of your book?”

                The question has come in different shapes and sizes, the one about the sweet face on the cover of The Unlikely Savior.  But it was my dear friend, Liz Fairfax, who asked using the exact words above and my answer to her question made her cry.  While goal today is certainly not to make you cry, I do want to answer the question for one and all, and, more importantly, honor the little girl behind the face.

                Short and to the point: the adorable child gracing the cover of the book is my sister, Rhonda Nichols, at the tender age of five.  We lost her to an aggressive form of cancer in 2008…she fought it for over a year longer than they thought she could, but then, when they gave her the prognosis they didn’t know a thing about her.

                Nonnie, as many of us called her, was as sweet as she looked as a little one.  As the oldest of four siblings, however, she kind of became a little mama to her younger siblings; our mother was very capable, but Nonnie just assumed the role as well and it worked.  Life worked hard to steal her youth and her innocence and the end result was the woman of iron character, one with an inner constitution strong enough to fight an insidious disease for much longer than seemed physically possible.  Why did she last that long?  Because in her mind, she still had to take care of those around her; she had unfinished business and she hung in there till it was all complete.  I won’t share her list, but I assure you, it was all taken care of up to and including making it through her husband Dan’s birthday – which was her last day on this earth. She decided how it was going to be and that’s how it was.

                Nonnie joined the Navy in the seventies when there were few women in the Armed Forces…we were all sure it would “change her…” make her rougher, worldlier.  We were wrong; while she quickly proved she could drink any male sailor under the table and still remain standing…she kept her very stern standards regarding personal conduct, much the chagrin of many a sailor, I’m sure. She protected her innocence fiercely, right up to and including her flat refusal EVER to even swear.  Ever. That must have broken some unwritten sailor code, but Nonnie didn’t care because there were just some things with which she wouldn’t compromise.  I’m certain every total stranger she ever scolded for their inconsiderate “potty mouth” felt as though they’d been cussed out by the direct little woman.  I’m as certain3 they thought twice about spewing four-letter words in public after meeting her.  That was just one of many ways Nonnie made the world a better place.

                And she was the only person I’ve ever known that simply would not, under any circumstances, lie.  And, believe me…that one could hurt!  But, like Popeye, she was what she was and if someone couldn’t handle that, they could go elsewhere–if they did go elsewhere, it was their loss.

                Nonnie was one of the finest human beings I’ve ever known.  She went too soon, but she ensured she lived the heck out of her life long before she knew it would be cut short.  She loved to travel, loved to go to movies, plays and ball games.  She loved family with a passion and she well understood the power of laughter; I rarely spent time with her after we grew up when we didn’t collapse with laughter at least once, and always to the point of tears.  I can still hear her giggle almost every day that comes and goes without her.

                At her final ceremony, a native American reverend told us that Nonnie would still be there and if we paid close attention, she’d let us know…through subtle ways in the world around us.  Nonnie must have heard her, because that very thing started immediately; before we left the cemetery, in fact.  Out on the grass, I saw a young lady who had worked with my sister; I had never met her and she was obviously grieving deeply.  When I put my arms around her, her hair blew across my face.  With no thought whatsoever, rather than introducing myself or saying words of comfort, I said something I’d never said to a total stranger in my life… “Your hair smells soooooo good.”

                Obviously this scene could have gone badly right away…in fact I thought it would when she pushed me away in shock.  But what she said next begun years of my sister “coming through.”  The young woman choked up and said,

                “That’s what Rhonda said to me every day at work when she’d hug me….”  The lady took me in her arms and we both cried a little, but mostly, we smiled.

                Many things happened since then that one could say are figments of my imagination or coincidence…but I always say, “Hi Nonnie…,” or “I love you too!”  I’m not the only one who has these experiences…it’s been five years, and it still happens.  We all still miss her terribly, but I feel like she’s still taking care of us in her own way.  She even pitched in with a dilemma with The Unlikely Savior.

                When I chose to self-publish the novel, I was suddenly aware that I needed to come up with my own cover design, something to which I’d given no prior consideration.  It was a winter evening when I realized this and I fell asleep no closer to an idea than I’d had hours earlier.

                At about three o’clock the next morning, I sat bolt upright in bed and all I could see was Nonnie’s first grade picture in my mind.  It was a black and white photo…one of hundreds of pictures from my childhood.  That face was the perfect age and depiction of the heroine, Johnnie Carter, during the only childhood scene in the novel.  It was her and I knew it was right.  I also knew that with my mother’s blessing, Nonnie would be on the cover of my first book.  But it never occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t my idea after all.

                It was my friend Liz, in tears after hearing the story of who the child was on the cover, who said, “Your sissy woke you up….she wanted to be on the cover!”  I felt so silly.  Of course it was Nonnie, taking care of me, yet again.  Still.

I smiled, and to myself, I said, “I love you too, Nonnie.”

                I hope I’ve done her proud.  And now you know who the face belongs to.  The adorable child who graces the cover.