Where I share my love of books with reviews, features, giveaways and memes. Family and needlepoint are thrown in from time to time.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Library Loot - Oct 27, 2010


Library Loot is a weekly event co-hosted by Claire from The Captive Reader and Marg from The Adventures of an Intrepid Reader that encourages bloggers to share the books they've checked out from the library.  If you'd like to participate, just write up your post - feel free to steal the button - and visit the above 2 blogs to see who has the Mr. Linky this week. Don't forget to check out what others are checking out!

I haven't done a Library Loot post since March!  Doesn't mean I haven't been checking out books though!




The Quilter's Apprentice by Jennifer Chiaverini (An Elm Creek Quilts Novel - 1)

When Sarah McClure and her husband, Matt, move to Waterford, Pennsylvania, she hopes to make a fresh start in the small college town.  Unable to find a job both practical and fulfilling, she takes a temporary position at Elm Creek Manor helping its reclusive owner, Sylvia Compson, prepare her family estate for sale after the death of her estranged sister.  Sylvia is also a master quilter and, as part of Sarah's compensation, offers to share the secrets of her creative gifts with the younger women.

During their lessons, the intricate, varied threads of Sylvia's life begin to emerge.  It is the story of a young wife living through the hardships and agonies of the World WAar II home front; of a family torn apart by jealousy and betrayal; of misunderstanding, loss, and a tragedy that can never be undone.  As the bond between them deepens, Sarah resolves to help Sylvia free herself from remembered sorrows and restore her life -- and her home -- to its former glory.  In the process, she confronts painful truths about her own family, even as she creates new dreams for her future.

Just as the darker sections of a quilt can enhance the brighter ones, the mistakes of the past can strengthen understanding and lead the way to new beginnings.  The powerful debut novel by a gifted storyteller, The Quilter's Apprentice tells a timeless tale of family, friendship, and forgiveness as two women weave the disparate pieces of their lives into a bountiful and harmonious whole.



The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew and the Heart of the Middle East by Sandy Tolan

In 1967, Bashir Khairi, a twenty-five-year-old Palestinian, journeyed to Israel with the goal of seeing the beloved old stone house with the lemon tree behind it that he and his family had fled nineteen years earlier.  To his surprise, when he found the house he was greeted by Dalia Eshkenazi Landau, a nineteen-year-old Israeli college student, whose family fled Europe for Israel following the Holocaust.  On the stoop of their shared home, Dalia and Bashir began a rare friendship, forged in the aftermath of war and tested over the next thirty-five years in ways that neither could imagine on that summer day in 1967.  Sandy Tolan brings the Israeli Palestinian conflict down to its most human level, suggesting that even amid the bleakest political realities there exist stories of hope and reconciliation.



Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen

In a garden surrounded by a tall fence, tucked away behind a small, quiet house in the smallest of towns, is an apple tree that is rumored to bear a very special sort of fruit.  In this luminous debut novel, Sarah Addison Allen tells the story of that enchanted tree, and the extraordinary people who tend it. . .

The Waverleys have always been a curious family, endowed with peculiar gifts that make them outsiders even in their hometown of Bascom, North Carolina.  Even their garden has a reputation, famous for its feisty apple tree that bears prophetic fruit, and its edible flowers, imbued with special powers.  Generations of Waverleys tended this garden.  Their history was in the soil.  But so were their futures.

A successful caterer, Claire Waverley prepares dishes made with her mystical plants -- from the nasturtiums that aid in keeping secrets and the pansies that make children thoughtful, to the snapdragons intended to discourage the attentions of her amorous neighbor.  Meanwhile, her elderly cousin, Evanell is known for distributing unexpected gifts whose uses become uncanilly clear.   They are the last of the Waverleys -- except for Claire's rebellious sister, Sydney, who fled Bascom the moment she could, abandoning Claire, as their own mother had years before.

When Sydney suddenly returns home with a young daughter of her own, Claire's quiet life is turned upside down -- along with the protective boundary she has so carefully constructed around her heart.  Together again in the house they grew up in, Sydney takes stock of all she left behind, as Claire struggles to heal the wounds of the past.  And soon the sisters realize they must deal with their common legacy -- if they are ever to feel at home in Bascom -- or with each other.




Every Move She Makes by Beverly Barton

As the pampered daughter of one of Spring Creek's most  prestigious southern families, Ella Porter has lived her entire life on the straight-and-narrow.  And being "good" has kept Ella safe and sane -- until now.  Suggestive yet ominous letters have been arriving at her office with alarming frequency.  Letters that remind her of the disturbing ones she used to get from Reed Conway -- the hellraiser she kenw from childhood -- after her father prosecuted him for murder.  Now Reed's been released from prison, and though Ella finds herself wanting to believe his claims of innocence, she's getting closer that a "good girl" ever should to a man with such a bad reputation.

Reed Conway is on a mission: to find out who really murdered his stepfather.  But someone wants to interfere -- someone determined to send Reed right back to prison for a brand-new crime.  They've made it look like he's still a threat to Ella Porter and her family, when the truth is, the more he sees Ella, the more he wants her.  But his attempt to prove his innocence have put both their lives in jeopardy. .. .Because whoever is stalking Ella will stop at nothing -- including murder. . .

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Somewhere Along the Way by Jodi Thomas - Book Review and Giveaway


Title: Somewhere Along the Way
Author: Jodi Thomas
Publisher: Berkley

My Thoughts:  Somewhere Along the Way is the second book in the Harmony series, but it does well as a stand alone (but I recommend reading the first book - Welcome to Harmony!)  We join a lot of the same characters two years down the road, but let me try to tell you about them.

Reagan is almost 18 and is living with her Uncle Jeremiah - he isn't really her uncle, but he will never state otherwise.  She has 2 best friends - Noah McAllen and Brandon Briggs.  Noah has been distant lately and though Reagan doesn't want more than friendship, she can't help feeling jealous.  Brandon is about as different from Noah as you can get.  Where Noah comes from a close knit family and has plans for college and the rodeo, Brandon's father died years ago and his mother has basically checked out.  He is on his own, determined to turn out better than his parents but is rough around the edges.

Alex (Noah's sister) is the sheriff and is engaged to Hank Matheson - volunteer fireman.  Hank wants to marry, but Alex keeps putting him off. She seems to have a problem admitting that she needs anyone.   Liz, Hank's sister, has just hung her shingle as a brand new lawyer in Harmony.  Too proud to let her family know she is short on cash, she is actually living out of her office and showering at the gym where she has a free month's membership.  The postman begins leaving her "neighbor's" mail with her when his office is locked.  This neighbor is G.L Smith - but his real name is just Gabriel Leary. G.L. Smith is his pen name under which he writes graphic novels.  He lives on a farm outside of town and has been a loner since he walked away from a military hospital about 4 years before as Gabe Wiseman.  He is paranoid and doesn't seem to do well mixing with people - until he meets Liz.

There are some other characters that round out the story and help to give you a picture of Harmony - where things don't always fall into place as the name implies.  It is a story full of warmth though and the characters are ones that I wouldn't mind having in my own life.  It is a story of how family can be found in the most unlikely places and people aren't always who they appear to be.  Sometimes you have to really look to see the gold under grime.  I loved this book and flew through it in 2 days!



~I received a copy of this book from the author for review.~


TIME FOR THE GIVEAWAY!

Jodi has kindly sent me an extra copy to giveaway to one of my readers.

Eligibility: U.S./Canada only

1. Sign up to be a follower of this blog - just let me know how you follow. (1 entry)

2. Follow me on twitter (@kherbrand) and tweet or use tweet button below. (1 entry)
3. Comment on any non-giveaway post and let me know. (1 entry)


All entries can be left in one comment, but must leave email address also! Giveaway will end on Nov 16. Winners will have 48 hours to respond.
 
 
 
Somewhere Along the Way
Publisher/Publication Date:
ISBN: 978-0-425-23772-4
358 pages
 

Jodi Thomas - Here today!

Please welcome Jodi Thomas, author of Somewhere Along the Way to Books and Needlepoint.


Thanks for asking me to drop by and tell everyone about my thirtieth novel and what I think is the best one I’ve ever written. These characters came alive for me and I hope they will for you. So, lets step into the second book about a small town in Texas, Harmony called SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY.


SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY is a story about a small Texas town where the people know and care about one another. From the mysterious Gabe Leary who tries to remain unnoticed because he fears someone from his past is hunting him, to the wild Liz Matheson who is trying to straighten her life out and matter, you’ll enjoy the journey.


Readers will see the story through the eyes of a teenager named Reagan who settled in as part of this town she loves and Tyler, the funeral director. You’ll fall in love and laugh at Gabe and Liz as they find love. My characters are not super heroes with magic powers, they are ordinary people living their lives, helping others and sometimes finding a love worth keeping.


I hope you enjoy SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d be happy to hear for you when you’ve finished the story.


Jodi Thomas


Thank you Jodi for visiting Books and Needlepoint again. I must say that I am almost through with Somewhere Along the Way and am loving it! It kept me up way later than I should have been last night! Readers - be sure to check back later today for my review and a giveaway!




About Jodi

Jodi Thomas is the NY Times and USA Today best-selling author of 31 novels and 8 short story collec-tions. As of July 2006, she was the 11th woman to be inducted in to RWA Hall of Fame. She is also cur-rently serving as the Writer in Residence at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, Texas.







Jodi’s 30th Novel
NY Times and USA Today best-selling author Jodi Thomas is pleased to present her 30th novel, SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY. Thomas proves once again that she is one of mainstream romance genre’s most compelling writers with her highly anticipated sequel to WELCOME TO HARMONY, which captured America’s heart.

“Picking up two years after the conclu-sion to WELCOME TO HARMONY, Thomas once again brings to life this fascinating little Texas town and its numerous characters. The reader is expertly drawn into their lives and left eager to know what happens next with all of them.”
—RT Book Reviews
www.jodithomas.com

Monday, October 25, 2010

It's Monday! What are you reading? (Oct 25, 2010)






What are you reading on Mondays is hosted by Sheila at One Person's Journey - You can hook up with the Mr. Linky there with your own post - but be sure and let me know what you are reading too!  Even though this week's post covers the last two weeks - you will not see a lot of change in it.  I seem to have slept through a couple of days last week!  I just don't know where they went!

Currently Reading:

Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick
Somewhere Along the Way by Jodi Thomas
My Give a Damn's Busted by Carolyn Brown
Take a Chance on Me by Jill Mansell

Bathroom Book:
Surrender the Heart by M.L. Tyndall


Audio Book:
The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris

New this week:
French Letters: Engaged in War by Jack W. London
The Miracle of Mercy Land by River Jordan

Books Reviewed Last Week:
Not one!

Books Waiting to Be Reviewed:
Ah-Choo!: The Uncommon Life of Your Common Cold by Jennifer Ackerman
Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick
The Big Dirt Nap by Rosemary Harris
Two Lethal Lies by Annie Solomon
Perfection by Julie Metz
Dewey's Nine Lives by Vicki Myron
When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead by Jerry Weintraub (audio)

Books that have been languishing here so long I will probably have to re-read to review!
Meet Me in Dreamland: A Lu-Chu and Lena Book by Steven McKinney, Valerie McKinney
Masked edited by Lou Anders

Ready - Set - Read!

Mailbox Monday (Oct 18 - Oct 24)

Bison roam the Black Hills of South Dakota


In My Mailbox is hosted Sundays at The Story Siren.  Mailbox Monday's host for October is Avis at She Reads and Reads. Please visit these posts and take a look at what packages everybody else got this week!





by Kate Morton

A long lost letter arrives in the post and Edie Burchill finds herself on a journey to Milderhurst Castle, a great but moldering old estate, where the Blythe spinsters live and where her mother was billeted fifty years before as a thirteen-year-old girl during WWII.  The elder Blythe sisters are twins and have spent most of their lives looking after the third and youngest sister, Juniper, who hasn't been the same since her fiance jilted her in 1941.

Inside the decaying castle, Edie begins to unravel her mother's past.  but there are other secrets hidden in the stones of Milderhurst, and Edie is about to learn more than she expected.  The truth of what happened in "the distant hours" of the past has been waiting a long time for someone to find it.

Morton once again enthralls readers with an atmospheric story featuring characters beset by circumstance and haunted by memory.  The Distant Hours is an homage to the great classics of gothic literature and to the power of storytelling.






For many Americans, the names Yosemite, the High Sierra, and the Grand Canyon conjure up first and foremost an Ansel Adams photograph.  A lifelong environmentalist, Adams was one of the most ardent champions of our national parks and wilderness systems, and through his magnificent photographs, letter-writing campaigns, and Sierra Club activities, he arguably did more than any individual since John Muir to raise our awareness and appreciation of America's wild places.

He visited more than forty national parks in his lifetime, lugging an 8x10-inch view camera, tripod, and photographic gear through dense old-growth forest and over precarious mountain passes, often with a burro as traveling companion and baggage handler.  His customized wood-paneled station wagon, nicknamed Helios, took him across the land and boasted a photographic platform on its roof, a mobile stage from which he could gain the best possible vantage points for image making.

With more than 225 photographs -- many rarely seen and 50 never before published -- Ansel Adams in the National Parks is the most comprehensive book of Adams' photographs of our national parks and wilderness areas.  Edited by Andrea G. Stillman, who worked for Adams in the 1970s, it features original essays by critic Richard B. Woodward and commentary by Stillman on the making of numerous photographs, enlivened by quotations from Adams.  Essays by Wallace Stegner, William A. Turnage of The Ansel Adams Trust, and Adams himself capture the essence of Ansel Adams as both gifted photographer and passionate environmentalist. 








In 1950, Charles M. Schulz's Peanuts made its unassuming debut in just seven newspapers.  Today, ten years after Schulz inked his final strip, Peanuts appears in 2,200 newspapers in 75 countries, and Charlie Brown, Snoopy, and the gang live on in film and advertisements and on television -- adored by fans and forever ingrained in popular culture.

The Peanuts Collection features rare materials -- some never before published -- carefully selected from the Charles M. Schulz Museum and family archives.  With quotes from Schulz family members and a foreward by daughter Amy Schulz Johnson, The Peanuts Collection offers insight into the world's most endearing comic strip characters and the man who made them an essential part of our world.

Includes:
  • Frameable prints of Peanuts characters
  • Animation cels from holiday specials
  • Peanuts stickers and booklets
  • Rare draft sketches from throughout Schulz's career
  • Cookbook featuring Snoopy's recipe for dog treats
  • Much more!






by Jillian Larkin

Every girl wants what she can't have.  Seventeen-year-old Gloria Carmody wants the flapper lifestyle -- and the bobbed hair, cigarettes, and music-filled nights that go with it.  Now that she's engaged to Sebastian Grey, scion of one of Chicago's most powerful families, Gloria's party days are over before they've even begun . . . or are they?

Clara Knowles, Gloria's goody-two-shoes cousin, has arrived to make sure the high-society wedding comes off without a hitch -- but Clara isn't as lilywhite as she appears.  Seems she has some dirty little secrets of her own that she'll do anything to keep hidden. . .

Lorraine Dyer, Gloria's social-climbing best friend, is tired of living in Gloria's shadow.  When Lorraine's envy spills over into desperate spite, no one is safe.  And someone's going to be very sorry. . .

From debut author Jillian Larkin, Vixen is the first novel in the sexy, dangerous, and ridiculously romantic new series set in the Roaring Twenties. . . when anything goes.





by Clare B. Dunkle

A chilling prequel to Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights that blends Yorkshire lore and Bronte family history.

The child who will become Heathcliff is already a savage little creature when Tabby Aykroyd arrives at Seldom House as his nursemaid.  The ghost of the last maid will not leave Tabby in peace, and her spirit is only one of many.  As she struggles against the evil forces that surround the house, Tabby tries to befriend her uncouth young charge, but her kindness cannot alter his fate.  Long before he reaches the old farmhouse of Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff has already doomed himself and any who try to befriend him.






by Alexander Yates

A singularly effervescent novel about the disappearance of an American businessman in the Pilippines and the estranged son, jilted lover, misguided felon, and supernatural saviors who all want a piece of him.

Benicio has not spoken with Howard -- his jet-setting father -- in five years, but after his mother's death Benicio travels to Manila so they can heal their relationship.  When he arrives, Howard is nowhere to be found -- leaving an irritated son to conclude that his father has let him down again.  But Howard has actually been kidnapped by a meth-addled cabdriver and his villainous rooster.

Benicio's search for Howard uncovers the truth about his father's womanizing ways and suspicious business deals.  Interspersed with Benicio's intense inquiry and his father's calamitous life in captivity are the high-octane interconnecting narratives of Reynato Ocampo, the local celebrity-hero policeman charged with rescuing Howard; Ocampo's rag-tag team of wizardry-infused soldiers; and Monique, a novice officer at the American Embassy, whose family still feels desperately unmoored in the Philippines.

With blistering speed, wonderfully bizarre turns, and glimpses into both Filipino and ex-pat culture, Moondogs marches toward a stunning climax and challenges our conventional ideas of family and identity.







by Lucie Simone

Trina Stewart needs cash.  Fast. She's barely got enough dough to keep her fanny off the streets, let alone any spending money for hot nights clubbing on Sunset Strip.  And her job teaching English as a Second Language is seriously lacking in both pay and glamour.  But not just any job will do.  She's after a real Hollywood job.  The kind that makes her $100,000 in film school debt and ten years in Tinsel Town not seem like such a big fat waste of time and money.  But a girl can't fritter away all her time fretting over her next paycheck, can she?  Certainly not when a man like Matiu Wulf, a sexy Maori from New Zealand, parks his oh-so-fine self in the apartment above hers while he takes his best shot at Showbiz.

If only Matiu didn't seem so. . . repelled by Trina.  Really, though, it's Los Angeles that Matiu finds so revolting.  He's only in L.A. to get some scene design experience to beef up his resume, and then he's headed back to New Zealand to follow his dreams in peace, thank you very much.  That's his plan, anyway, until he falls hard for Trina. . . and Trina falls under the spell of a toothy-grinned wannabe actor who charms the pants right off her.

With Matiu on a mission to win Trina's heart, and Trina on a mission to nail down that ever elusive Hollywood job, these two soon discover that when love gets tossed in the mix, life in Tinsel Town isn't all red carpets, after parties, and celebrity gossip.  In fact, Hollywood can be a downright bitch!





What books found a home with you this week?




Friday, October 22, 2010

Why Knitting is Like Writing by Julie Metz

This might sound at first like the riddle from Alice in Wonderland—(why is a raven like a writing desk?) but for me there have been many overlaps between handcraft and writing.

I love knitting. When I cannot work on a project I enjoy watching others at work. Lately the subway has become a knitter’s paradise. Handwork has remained a hand/brain activity. I am not so skilled that it is effortless. In fact, in my case knitting requires my full attention. When I space out, I’ll end up ripping out ten rows because of a dropped stitch way back when. People often think of writing as a purely intellectual effort, but for me the activity of writing is physical. My brain thinks, my fingers type.

On a great day, when writing comes easily, and words spin out almost without thought, I type like mad, without correcting typos, as if I were taking dictation. They happen once in a while, but truthfully, I haven’t had many days like that. Most workdays are deliberate in effort. The words come slowly, like the loops over needles of a novice, rather than the fluent, even rows of an experienced handcrafter.
Though our everyday speech often feels patterned (how many times do we say the same things to our family members or co-workers?) words can be refashioned and rearranged endlessly. The language evolves so rapidly that my teenaged daughter uses expressions for which I need translations. Knitting is perhaps more like the digital world—there are knits and purls, like zeros and ones. The variety is in their texture and pattern.

Reorganizing a sentence is something like repairing mistakes with a crochet hook, or carefully ripping out a stitched seam.

My mother worked many needlepoint pillows—when she made mistakes she would mutter to herself, then carefully remove the mistakes with a tiny and precise scissors, and rework the section, her original error now invisible. The best writing feels like that, though as writers and good readers we know how much effort went in to what might read as a clear and simple prose.

As I work on new projects I am reminded of the greatest similarity between writing and handwork—the value of patience and persistence.


Thank you Julie for being a guest at Books and Needlepoint today!

Julie Metz is the author of The New York Times bestselling author of Perfection, which was a 2009 Barnes & Noble Discover New Writers Selection. The recipient of a MacDowell Award, her writing has appeared in publications including The New York Times, Glamour, Hemispheres, Publishers Weekly, and the New York City storysite mrbellersneighborhood.com. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York.




About Perfection: Julie Metz had seemingly the perfect life--an adoring husband, a happy, spirited daughter, a lovely old house in a quaint suburban town--but it was all a lie.


Julie Metz's life changed forever on one ordinary January afternoon when her husband, Henry, collapsed on the kitchen floor and died in her arms. Suddenly, this mother of a six-year-old became the young widow in her bucolic small town. But that was only the beginning. Seven months after Henry's death, just when Julie thought she was emerging from the worst of it, came the rest of it: She discovered that what had appeared to be the reality of her marriage was but a half-truth. Henry had hidden another life from her.


Perfection is the story of Metz's journey through chaos and transformation as she creates a different life for herself and for her young daughter. It is the story of rebuilding both a life and an identity after betrayal and widowhood, of rebirth and happiness--if not perfection. (back cover)

Connect with Julie at www.perfectionbook.com or on Facebook.


Perfection
Publisher/Publication Date: Voice, May 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4013-4135-0
352 pages

Monday, October 18, 2010

First Wild Card Tour: Catching Moondrops by Jennifer Valent

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (September 20, 2010)
***Special thanks to Maggie Rowe of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Jennifer Erin Valent is the 2007 winner of the Christian Writers Guild's Operation First Novel contest. A lifelong resident of the South, her surroundings help to color the scenes and characters she writes. In fact, the childhood memory of a dilapidated Ku Klux Klan billboard inspired her portrayal of Depression-era racial prejudice in Fireflies in December. She has spent the past 15 years working as a nanny and has dabbled in freelance, writing articles for various Christian women's magazines. She still resides in her hometown of Richmond, Virginia.

Visit the author's website.


Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (September 20, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414333277
ISBN-13: 978-1414333274

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


There’s nothing in this whole world like the sight of a man swinging by his neck.

Folks in my parts liked to call it “lynching,” as if by calling it another word they could keep from feeling like murderers. Sometimes when they string a man up, they gather around like vultures looking for the next meal, staring at the cockeyed neck, the sagging limbs, their lips turning up at the corners when they should be turning down. For some people, time has a way of blurring the good and the bad, spitting out that thing called conscience and replacing it with a twisted sort of logic that makes right out of wrong.

Our small town of Calloway, Virginia, had that sort of logic in spades, and after the trouble it had caused my family over the years, I knew that better than most. But the violence had long since faded away, and my best friend Gemma would often tell me that made it okay—her being kept separate from white folks. “Long as my bein’ with your family don’t bring danger down on your heads, I’ll keep my peace and be thankful,” she’d say.

But I didn’t feel so calm about it all as Gemma did. Part of that was my stubborn temperament, but most of it was my intuition. I’d been eyeball to eyeball with pure hate more than once in my eighteen years, and I could smell it, like rotting flesh. Hate is a type of blindness that divides a man from his good sense. I’d seen it in the eyes of a Klansman the day he tried to choke the life out of me and in the eyes of the men who hunted down a dear friend who’d been wrongly accused of murder.

And, at times, I’d caught glimpses of it in my own heart.

The passage of time had done nothing to lessen its stench. And despite the relative peace, I knew full well that hearts poisoned by hateful thinking can only simmer for so long before boiling over.

In May of that year, 1938, that pot started bubbling.

I was on the front porch shucking corn when I saw three colored men turn up our walk, all linked up in a row like the Three Musketeers. I stood up, let the corn silk slip from my apron, and called over my shoulder. “Gemma! Come on out here.”

She must have been nearby because the screen door squealed open almost two seconds after my last words drifted in through the screen. “What is it?”

“Company. Only don’t look too good.” I walked to the top of the steps and shielded my eyes from the sun. “Malachi Jarvis! You got yourself into trouble again?”

The man in the middle, propped up like a scarecrow, lifted his chin wearily but managed to flash a smile that revealed bloodied teeth. “Depends on how you define trouble.”

Gemma gasped at the sight of him and flew down the steps, letting the door slam so loud the porch boards shook. “What in the name of all goodness have you been up to? You got some sort of death wish?”

A man I’d never seen before had his arm wound tightly beneath Malachi’s arms, blood smeared across his shirt front. Malachi’s younger brother, Noah, was on his other side, struggling against the weight, and Gemma came in between them to help.

“He ain’t got the good sense to keep his mouth shut, is all,” Noah said breathlessly.

I went inside to grab Momma’s first aid box, and by the time I got back out, Gemma had Malachi seated in the rocker.

Gemma gave him the once-over and shook her head so hard I thought it might fly off. “I swear, if you ain’t a one to push a body into an early grave. Your poor momma’s gonna lose her ever-lovin’ mind.”

Along with his younger brother and sister, Malachi lived down by the tracks with his widowed momma—as the man of the house, so to speak. He’d taken up being friends with Luke Talley some two years back when they’d both worked for the tobacco plant, and they’d remained close even though Luke had struck out on his own building furniture. Malachi was never one to keep his peace, a fact Gemma had no patience for, and she made it good and clear many a time. Today would be no exception.

“Goin’ around stirrin’ up trouble every which way,” she murmured as she pulled fixings out of the first aid box. “It’s one thing to pick fights with your own kind. Can’t say as though you wouldn’t benefit by a poundin’ or two every now and again. But this foolin’ around with white folks’ll get you into more’n you’re bargainin’ for.”

The man who’d helped Noah shoulder the burden of Malachi reached out to take the gauze from Gemma. “Why don’t you let me get that?”

Gemma didn’t much like being told what to do, and she glared at him. “I can clean up cuts and scrapes. I worked for a doctor past two years.”

Malachi nodded towards the man. “This here man is a doctor.”

I was putting iodine on a piece of cotton, and I near about dropped it on the floor when I heard that. Never in all my born days had I seen a colored man claiming to be a doctor. Neither had Gemma by the looks of her.

“A doctor?” she murmured. “You sure?”

He laughed and extended his hand to her. “Last I checked. Tal Pritchett. Just got into town yesterday. Gonna set up shop down by the tracks.”

Gemma handed the gauze over to him, still dumbfounded.

“What d’you think about that?” Malachi grinned and then grimaced the minute his split lip made its presence known. “A colored doc in Calloway. Shoo-whee. There’s gonna be talkin’ about this!”

The doctor went to work cleaning up Malachi’s wounds. “I ain’t here to start no revolution. I’m just aimin’ to help the colored folks get the help they deserve.”

“Well, you’re goin’ to start a revolution whether you want to or not.” Malachi shut his eyes and gritted his teeth the minute the iodine set to burning. “Folks in these parts don’t much like colored folk settin’ themselves up as smart or nothin’.”

Gemma watched Tal Pritchett like she was analyzing his every move, finding out for herself if he was a doctor or not. I stood by and let her assist him as she’d been accustomed to doing for Doc Mabley until he passed on two months ago. After he’d bandaged up Malachi’s right hand, she seemed satisfied that he was who he said.

Noah slumped down into the other rocker and watched. “It’s one thing to get yourself an education and stand for your right to make somethin’ of yourself. It’s another to go stirrin’ up trouble for the sake of stirrin’ up trouble.”

“I ain’t doin’ it for the sake of stirrin’ up trouble. I done told you that!” Malachi flexed his left hand to test how well his swollen fingers moved. Ain’t no colored man ever goin’ to be free in this here county . . . in this here state . . . in this here world unless somebody starts fightin’ for freedom.”

“Slaves was freed decades ago,” Noah said sharply. “We ain’t in shackles no more.”

“But we ain’t free to live our lives as we choose, neither. You think colored people are ever gonna be more’n house help and field help so long as we let ourselves be treated like less than white people? No sir. We’re less than human to them white folks. They don’t think nothin’ about killin’ so long as who they’re killin’ is colored.”

“Don’t you go bunchin’ all white people together, Malachi Jarvis,” I argued. “Ain’t all white folk got bad feelin’s about coloreds.”

Malachi waved me off in exasperation. “You know I ain’t talkin’ about you, Jessilyn.”

Noah had his hands tightly knotted in his lap and was staring at them like they held all the answers to the world’s problems. “All’s you’re doin’ is gettin’ yourself kicked around.” He looked up at me pleadingly. “This here’s the second time in a week he’s come home banged up.”

I put a hand on Noah’s shoulder and set my eyes on Malachi. “Who did it?”

He put his bandaged right hand into the air, palm up. “Who knows? Some white boys. You get surrounded by enough of ‘em, they all just blend in together like a vanilla milkshake.”

“How’s it you didn’t see them? They jump you or somethin’?”

“Don’t ask me, Jessie. I was just mindin’ my own business in town and then on my way home, they start hasslin’ me.”

“What he was doin’,” Noah corrected, “was tryin’ to get into the whites-only bar.”

Gemma sniffed in disgust. “Shouldn’t have been in no bar in the first place. There’s your first mistake.”

“Whites-only, too.” Noah kicked his foot against the porch rail and then looked up at me quickly. “Sorry.”

I smiled at him and turned my attention back to Malachi. “It’s a good thing Luke ain’t here to see this. He don’t like you drinkin’ and you know it.”

His eyeballs rolled between swollen lids. “I don’t know why he gets his trousers in a knot over it anyhow. Ain’t like there’s prohibition no more. And he’s been known to take a swig or two himself.”

“Luke says you’re a nasty drunk.”

“He is.” Noah knotted his hands back in his lap. “And he’s been at the bottle more often than not of late.”

“Quit tellin’ tales!” his brother barked.

“I ain’t tellin’ tales; I’m tellin’ truth. They can ask anybody at home how late you come in, and how you come in all topsy turvy. He comes home in the middle of the mornin’ and sleeps in till all hours the next day.”

“What about your job at the plant?” Gemma asked.

Malachi closed his eyes and waved her off, but his brother provided the answer for him. “Lost it!” He loosened his grip on his hands and snapped his fingers. “Like that. There’s goes his income.”

“I said I’ll get another job.”

“Oh, like there’s jobs aplenty around these parts for colored folk. And anyways, if you find one, how you gonna’ keep that one?”

Gemma had her hands on her hips, and I knew what that meant. I leaned back against the house and waited for the lecture to commence.

“You talk a fine talk about colored folks needin’ to stand up for equality, but you ain’t doin’ it in any way that’s right and good. You’re goin’ about town gettin’ people’s goat, and tryin’ to get in where you ain’t wanted, and gettin’ yourself all liquored up and useless. Now your family ain’t got the money they depend on you for, and why? Because you walk around livin’ like you ain’t got to do nothin’ for nobody but yourself.”

“I’m standin’ up for the rights of colored folks everywhere.” Malachi was angry now, pink patches spreading on his busted-up cheeks. “You see anyone else in this town willin’ to go toe to toe with the white boys in this county?”

“Don’t put a noble face on bein’ an upstart.”

Malachi pushed Tal’s hand away and sat up tall. “You call standin’ up to white folks bein’ an upstart?”

Doc Pritchett tried to dress the wound on Malachi’s temple, but Malachi pushed his hand away again. That was when the doctor had enough, and he smacked his hands on his thighs and stood up tall and determined in front of Malachi. “I ain’t Abraham Lincoln. I’m just Doc Pritchett tryin’ to fix up an ornery patient, and I ain’t got all day to do it. So I’m goin’ to settle this argument once and for all.” He pointed at Gemma. “She’s right. There ain’t no fightin’ nonsense with more nonsense, and all’s you’re doin’ by gettin’ in the faces of white folks with your smart attitude is bein’ as bad as they’re bein’.” Then he pointed at Malachi. “And he’s right, too. There ain’t never a change brought about that should be brought about without people standin’ up for such change. And sometimes that means bein’ willin’ to fight for what’s right.”

Gemma swallowed hard and didn’t even try to argue. My eyes must have bugged out of my head at the sight of her being tamed so easily.

“Now, I’m all for civil uprisin’,” Tal continued. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with colored folk sayin’ they won’t be walked on no more. I don’t see nothin’ wrong with wantin’ to use the same bathroom as white folks or sit in the same chairs as white folks. Way I see it, none of that’s goin’ to change unless someone says it has to.” He squatted down in front of Malachi again and stared him down nose to nose. “But all this hot-shottin’ and show-boatin’ ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ but get your rear end kicked. Or worse. You aim to stand tall for somethin’? Fine. Stand tall for it. But don’t you go around thinkin’ these battle scars say somethin’ for you. You ain’t got them by bein’ noble; you got them by bein’ stupid. All’s these scars say is you’re an idiot.”

It was one of the best speeches I’d heard from anyone outside my daddy, and if I’d ever thought for two seconds put together to see a colored man run for governor, I figured Tal Pritchett would be the man for the job. As it was, I knew he was the best man for the job he had now. Sure enough, being a colored doc in Calloway would be a challenge. But I figured he was up for it.

Regardless, he shut Malachi up, and for the next five minutes we all watched him finish his job with skill and finesse. When he’d fixed the last of Malachi’s face, he stood up and clapped his hands. “Suppose that should do it. Don’t see need for any stitchin’ up today. Let’s hope there’s no cause for it in future.” Then he looked at me. “You got someplace out here where I can wash up?”

I held my hand out toward the front door. “Bathroom’s upstairs.”

He hesitated. “I’d just as soon wash up out here.”

I caught the reason for his hesitation but didn’t know what to say. As usual, Gemma did.

“I done lived in this here house for six years now, and I’m just as brown as you. You can feel free to go on up to the bathroom, you hear?”

He looked from Gemma to me, then back to Gemma before nodding. “Yes’m.” And then he disappeared inside.

“Ma’am,” Gemma muttered under her breath. “Ain’t old enough to be called ma’am, least of all by a man no more’n a few years older’n me.”

“You know what happens once you start gettin’ them crows feet . . .”

Gemma whirled about and gave Malachi the evil eye. “Don’t go thinkin’ I won’t hurt you just because you’re all bandaged up.”

Noah got up and paced the porch until Tal came back outside. “Doc, you have any problem gettin’ your schoolin’?”

Tal shrugged and leaned against the porch rail. “No more’n most, I guess. There’s a lot to learn. Why? You thinkin’ about goin’ to college?”

You could have heard a pin drop on that front porch. Never, and I mean never, in all the days Calloway had been on the map, had there ever been a single person, white or black, to step foot at a college. The very idea of that mark being made by a colored boy was a surefire way to start war.

And Noah knew it.

He looked at his feet and kicked the heel of one shoe against the toe of another. “Ain’t possible. I was just wonderin’ aloud, is all.”

“What do you mean it ain’t possible? All’s you’ve got to do is work hard. You can get scholarships and things.”

But Noah took a look at his brother, whose face was hard and tight-lipped, and nodded off toward the road. “Nah, there ain’t no use talkin’ over it. We’d best get home anyhow.”

Tal didn’t push the subject. He just picked his hat up off the porch swing and plopped it on his head. “Miss Jessie. Miss Gemma. It was a fine pleasure to meet you, and a kindness for you to give us a hand.”

“You should stop by sometime and meet my parents,” I said. “They’re off visitin’, but I’m sure they’d be right happy to know you.”

“I’m sure I’d be right happy to know them, too.” He turned his attention to Gemma. “You said you worked for a doctor?”

“I worked for Doc Mabley. He was a white doctor. Died some two months ago.”

“He let you assist?”

“Only with the colored patients. Doc Mabley was kind enough to help some of them out when they needed it. Otherwise I kept his records, kept up his stock.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Miss Gemma, I could sure use some help if you’d be obliged. An assistant would be a good set of extra hands, and I could use someone known around here to make my introductions.”

Gemma eyed him up before slowly nodding her head. “Reckon I could.”

“Wouldn’t be much pay, now, you know. Ain’t likely to get much in the way of fees from the patients I’ll be treatin’.”

“Don’t matter so long as I have good work to put my hands to.”

“That it would be. My office is right across the street from the Jarvis house.”

Malachi snorted. “Shack’s more like it.”

“Room enough for me,” Tal said. Then to Gemma, “You think you could stop in sometime this week to talk it over?”

“I can come day after tomorrow if that suits.”

“Nine o’clock too early?”

“No, sir! I’ve kept farm hours all my life.”

He grinned at her. “Nine o’clock then?”

“Nine o’clock.”

Malachi watched the two of them with his swollen eyes, a look of disgust growing more evident on his face. He’d made no secret over the past year about his admiration for Gemma, and the unmistakable attraction that was growing between her and Tal was clearly turning his stomach.

“Mind if we go home?” he muttered. “Before I fall down dead or somethin’?”

Gemma tore her eyes away from Tal to roll them at Malachi. “Would serve you right if you did.”

“And on that cheery note . . .” Malachi groaned on his way down the steps. “I’ll bid you ladies a fine evenin’.”

I gave Noah a playful whack to the head, but he ducked so it only clipped the top. “Luke will be back home tomorrow evenin’. He’ll be itchin’ to see you, I’m sure.”

“I’m itchin’ to see him.” He took the steps in one leap, tossing dust up when he landed. “You tell him to come on by and see us real soon.”

“And tell him to bring his cards,” Malachi added. “He owes me a poker rematch.”

I squinted at him suspiciously. “Only if you play for beans.”

“I hate beans.”

Malachi leaned on Tal for support and Noah scurried to catch up and help. I watched them go, but I wasn’t thinking much about them. I was thinking about Luke. It had been two months since he’d left to collect customers for his furniture-making business, and every day had seemed like an eternity.

The very thought of him got my stomach butterflies to fluttering, but one look at Gemma told me it was another man who had stolen her attention. “That

Doc Pritchett’s a fine man.” I looked at her sideways with a smirk. “Looks about twenty-five or so.”

“So?”

“Good marryin’ age.”

She crossed her arms defiantly. “Jessilyn Lassiter, what’s that got to do with anythin’?”

“Only what I said. I’m only statin’ fact.”

“Mm-hm. I hear ya. You’d be better off keepin’ your facts to yourself.”

She grabbed the first aid box and headed inside, but the sound of that door slamming told me I’d got to her.

It told me Tal Pritchett had got to her, too.

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...