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

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Mailbox Monday 3-23-09


Before you look at the books that I got - make some books appear in your mailbox! Check out the memoir giveaways from Hachette either in my right sidebar or here and here.

Here are some books from my mailbox!

Katt's in the Cradle by Ginger Kolbaba and Christy Scannell was received for a First Wild Card Tour. It has already been read and reviewed here.







Deadly Charms by Claudia Mair Burney was also received for a First Wild Card Tour. I have started this book and will be posting my review on Thursday - come back and check it out.

Description: When the ominous Thunders roll into Dr. Amanda Bell Brown's town, the sassy sleuth sees a storm brewing. Disgraced playboy preacher Ezekiel Thunder and his seductive first lady, Nikki, are on the comeback trail, but Bell is less than charmed by the pair. When their toddler, Baby Zeekie, is found dead from an accidental drowning, forensic psychologist Bell suspects foul play in the fatal family, especially after the mama in mourning flirts with Bell's estranged husband, Jazz. Bell is sickened by the woman's behavior and the thought of someone murdering an innocent child -- or is it morning sickness that's plaguing her? Between babies and bodies, she pushes past the limits to discover the deadly truth.






Yesterday's Embers by Deborah Raney was received for a First Wild Card Tour that is happening on Friday. Come back and see my review then!

From book cover: He never thought he'd be widowed. . .with five young children.

She never thought she'd be thirty and still single.

But is falling in need the same thing as falling in love?

On Thanksgiving Day, Douglas DeVore kissed his beloved wife good-bye, unaware that it would be the last time he'd see her-or their precious daughter Rachel. Left with five kids to raise on his own, and already juggling two jobs to make ends meet, Doug wonders how he'll manage moment by moment, much less day after day, without Kaye's love and support.

When Mickey Valdez, a daycare teacher, hears of the tragedy, she offers to lend a helping hand. After all, it isn't like she has a family of her own waiting for her at home. Her brothers are all happily married, but love seems to have passed her by.

Then a spark ignites. . .but will the flame be too hot to handle.





Hunger: A Gone Novel by Michael Grant was received from Harper Collins/Teen through Shelf Awareness.

The food ran out weeks ago. Kids are starving, but no one wants to come up with a solution. And each day, more and more kids are evolving, developing supernatural abilities that set them apart from the kids without powers.

Tension rises, and when an unthinkable tragedy occurs, chaos descends upon the town. It's the normal kids against the mutants. Each kid is out for himself, and even the good ones turn murderous.

But a larger problem looms. The Darkness, a sinister creature that has lived buried deep in the hills, begins calling to some of the teens in the FAYZ. Calling to them, guiding them, manipulating them.

The Darkness has awakened. And it is hungry.







The Lost Hours by Karen White I received after posting about it in a Waiting on Wednesday post. I am going to be hosting the author here around April 20th. So please come back and meet her!

Every woman should have a daughter to tell her stories to. Otherwise, the lessons learned are as useless as spare buttons from a discarded shirt. And all that is left is a fading name and the shape of a nose or the color of hair. The men who write the history books will tell you the stories of battles and conquests. But the women will tell you the stories of people's hearts.

Surviving the tragic accident that killed her parents has always made Piper Mills feel invincible. That is, until fate strikes again and a near-fatal fall from a horse destroys her dreams o becoming an Olympic equestrian. Feeling more fragile than ever, Piper returns to Savannah, and to the home she inherited from her grandparents, to retreat, recover, and reflect on all that she has lost.

It's during her recuperation that Piper discovers a secret room and torn pages from an old scrapbook that allude to a tragedy in her grandmother's past. Determined to untangle the mystery, Piper tracks down her grandmother's childhood friend, a woman named Lily, who clearly knows he truth - and the dark secrets hidden in the house. But Lily has secrets f her own - secrets she believes are better left forgotten. And for Piper to unearth the truth, she will have to be willing to open her heart to new relationships, heal the heartaches of the past, and find the courage to embrace the future.





And the last one I have time for tonight - When Skateboards Will Be Free by Said Sayrafiezadeh. I received this from Random House through Shelf Awareness.

With a profound gift for capturing the absurd in life, and a deadpan wisdom that comes from surviving a surreal childhood in the Socialist Workers Party, Said Sayrafiezadeh has crafted an unsentimental, funny, heartbreaking memoir.

Said's Iranian-born father and American Jewish mother had one thing in common: their unshakable conviction that the workers' revolution was coming. Separated since their son was nine months old, they each pursued a dream of the perfect socialist society. Pinballing with his mother between makeshift Pittsburgh apartments, falling asleep at party meetings, longing for the luxuries he's taught to despise, Said waits for the revolution that never, ever arrives. "Soon," is mother assures him, while his long-absent father quixotically runs as a socialist candidate for president in an Iran about to fall under the ayatollahs. Then comes the hostage crisis. The uproar that follows is the first time Said hears the word "Iran" in school. There he is suddenly forced to confront the combustible stew of hi identity: as an American, an Iranian, a Jew, a socialist. . .and a middle-school kid who loves football and video games.

Poised perfectly between tragedy and farce, here is a story by a brilliant young writer struggling to break away from the powerful mythologies of his upbringing and create a life - and a voice - of his own. Said Sayrafiezadeh's memoir is unforgettable.

I Need Some Advice

Ok fellow bloggers - I know that I have read some posts out there in the past about what you all do when you come across a book you don't particularly care for. I have come across my first book in awhile that falls in this category. My question is - if you have promised to review a book, and you discover part way in, that you really don't care for it - do you:

  • Finish it and give an honest "not for me" review
  • Don't finish it and give a "not for me" review through what you did read
  • Don't finish it and just post a - DNF - not for me - no review

Look forward to hearing some answers!

P.S. - Don't forget to check out my two giveaways for Jantsen's Gift and Do-Over in my sidebar!

Friday, March 20, 2009

Katt's in the Cradle by Ginger Kolbaba and Christy Scannell (Book Review)




Title: Katt's in the Cradle
Author: Ginger Kolbaba & Christy Scannell
Publisher: Howard Books/Simon and Schuster
Genre: Christian Fiction
Available: Now

First sentence: "I can't believe it!" Felicia Lopez-Morrison waved as she ricocheted through the tables, heading toward her three friends seated in their usual booth in the back right-hand corner of Lulu's.

When you are in the trenches, sometimes you're up to your neck in mud. That's the not-so-glamorous life of a pastor's wife.

Felicia's family is. . .complicated. That's putting it nicely. Now they're flying in from LA - all at once - to stay with her. . .just when her brother-in-law, Javier, and Mama aren't even speaking to each other. And the whole church will be there to witness the feud.

Mimi has a lot on her mind with her four energetic kids - especially Milo the screamer, with his Pavarotti voice. Then her live-in alcoholic dad starts to mow their lawn at midnight.

Lisa has her hands full with loudmouth Tom Graves and the other troublemakers at Red River Assembly. Then vicious rumors start to fly about the Barton family. . .and the attacks and threats get increasingly personal.

Jennifer is pushing her adopted daughter, Carys, in a stroller, when she notices a black town car - the same car she's seen several times over the past week. Could someone be following her?

The PWs plunge into an unnerving mystery. . .and discover what "family" really means.

(Description from book cover)

This book was just okay for me. But in all fairness, I think it would have made a tremendous difference if I had the opportunity to read the first two books Desperate Pastors' Wives and A Matter of Wife and Death first.

I liked the writing style - it was very flowing and easy to read and understand. The problems that the four wives were having were things that have probably happened somewhere at sometime - so it was realistic, except that I am not sure they would all be going on at the same time.

When I first started reading the book, the characters kept getting jumbled up in my mind. Again,I attribute this to not reading the first two books. There is a nice synopsis of each wife at the beginning of the book, though, so I referred to it quite often in the beginning.

I did like that it made me think about how I treat or even think about my friends and family. I hope that I do not devalue their feelings or ambitions just because it might be different from my own. It also showed me how necessary it is to show Christ's love in all encounters.

You can go here to read the first chapter!

The Friday 56 - 3-20-2009


Rules:
* Grab the book nearest you. Right now.
* Turn to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post that sentence (plus one or two others if you like) along with these instructions on your blog or (if you do not have your own blog) in the comments section of Storytime with Tonya and Friends.
*Post a link along with your post back to Storytime with Tonya and Friends.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual. Use the CLOSEST.
"Did you notice our trees? They spook people the first time they see them."
(From the Lost Hours by Karen White)

Friday Finds 3-20-2009






Christine Falls by Benjamin Black I found quite awhile ago over at Blog.Literarily. It is the first book of the Quirke series, with the second one being The Silver Swan.



In the Pathology Department it was always night. This was one of the things Quirke liked about his job...it was restful, cosy, one might almost say, down in these depths nearly two floors beneath the city's busy pavements. There was too a sense here of being part of the continuance of ancient practices, secret skills, of work too dark to be carried on up in the light. But one night, late after a party, Quirke stumbles across a body that shouldn't have been there...and his brother-in-law, eminent paediatrician Malachy Griffin - a rare sight in Quirke's gloomy domain - altering a file to cover up the corpse's cause of death. It is the first time Quirke encounters Christine Falls, but the investigation he decides to lead into the way she lived - and the reason she died - disturbs a dark secret that has been festering at the core of Dublin's high Catholic society, a secret ready to destabilize the very heart and soul of Quirke's own family...










Blessed are the Cheesemakers by Sarah-Kate Lynch I found over at bfishreads.

Blessed are Corrie and Fee, for theirs is the kingdom of the world's tastiest farmhouse cheese. Tucked away in a corner of Ireland, the lifelong friends turn out batch after batch of perfect Coolarney Blues and Golds, thanks to co-operative cows, non-meat-eating fecund milkmaids, and the wind blowing just so in the right direction. Add to this mixture Corrie's long-lost granddaughter Abbey, fresh from a remote but by no means backward island where her husband has been on a mission - although not quite the kind which Abbey had imagined. And stir in New Yorker Kit Stephens, heart-broken, burned-out and permanently hungover, and you have a recipe for disaster. The magic that Corrie and Fee weave in and out of the cheese vats is legendary, but can they use their powers to turn bitterness and betrayal into love - or will the secret ingredient be lost to Coolarney cheese forever?







Revenge by Mary Stanley was discovered over at She Reads and Reads.


Millicent McHarg, an eccentric and forthright novelist, is adored by her three granddaughters. When the eldest, Prunella, nicknamed Plumpet, is found hurt and bewildered in her own bed on Christmas morning following a party the night before, her family must at once deal with the emotional pain, and try to solve the mystery. With Plumpet's sisters' help, Millicent prepares to take a grandmother's revenge...




The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry was found over at Christian Fiction.

As a young woman, Roseanne McNulty was one of the most beautiful and beguiling girls in County Sligo, Ireland. Now, as her hundredth year draws near, she is a patient at Roscommon Regional Mental Hospital, and she decides to record the events of her life.

As Roseanne revisits her past, hiding the manuscript beneath the floorboards in her bedroom, she learns that Roscommon Hospital will be closed in a few months and that her caregiver, Dr. Grene, has been asked to evaluate the patients and decide if they can return to society. Roseanne is of particular interest to Dr. Grene, and as he researches her case he discovers a document written by a local priest that tells a very different story of Roseanne's life than what she recalls. As doctor and patient attempt to understand each other, they begin to uncover long-buried secrets about themselves.

Set against an Ireland besieged by conflict, The Secret Scripture is an epic story of love, betrayal, and unavoidable tragedy, and a vivid reminder of the stranglehold that the Catholic Church had on individual lives for much of the twentieth century.


And - just for fun, if you have read this far and can tell me how all these books are related (book by book - please be specific) - send me an email at - kherbrand (at) comcast (dot) com - and I will enter you in a drawing for the book Trail of Crumbs by Kim Sunee. (My review is here) This drawing will take place when the next Friday Finds post goes up.




What great books did you find this week?? Stop over at Should Be Reading and share yours!

*all descriptions are from Fantastic Fiction

First Wild Card Tour - Katt's in the Cradle by Ginger Kolbaba and Christy Scannell

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!

My review should be up later today - so please come back to see it!





Today's Wild Card author is:




and the book:



Katt’s in the Cradle: A Secrets from Lulu's Cafe Novel

Howard Books (February 3, 2009)



ABOUT THE AUTHORs:




Ginger Kolbaba is editor of the award-winning Marriage Partnership magazine. An experienced columnist and public speaker, she lives in Chicago with her husband.

Visit the author's website.



Christy Scannell is a college instructor, freelance editor and accomplished writer who lives with her husband in San Diego.

Visit the author's website.


Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Howard Books (February 3, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1416543899
ISBN-13: 978-1416543893

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:



Meet the Pastors’ Wives of Red River, Ohio

Lisa Barton is an at-home mom with two kids: Callie, sixteen, and Ricky, fourteen. Her husband, Joel, has pastored Red River Assembly of God for nearly five years. Lisa’s parents pastor the Assembly of God in nearby Cloverdale.

Felicia Lopez-Morrison’s husband, Dave, pastors the First Baptist Church. They have one child, Nicholas, who is five and in kindergarten. Once a high-powered public relations executive with a top national firm, Felicia now works from home for the company’s Midwestern clients. The Morrisons came to Red River three years ago from Los Angeles.

Mimi Plaisance is a former teacher who now stays home with her four children: Michaela, eleven; Mark, Jr. (MJ), nine; Megan, six; and Milo, fifteen months. Mark, her husband, is senior pastor of Trinity United Methodist Church.

Jennifer Shores is married to Sam, pastor of Red River Community Church, where she is the church secretary part-time. They have been married twelve years and have one adopted daughter, Carys, who is eleven months old.

Chapter 1

Lulu’s Café

Tuesday, March 18

12:05 p.m.


“I can’t believe it!” Felicia Lopez-Morrison waved as she ricocheted through the tables, heading toward her three friends seated in their usual booth in the back right-hand corner of Lulu’s.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked breathlessly, sliding into the seat next to Jennifer, who pushed her leather purse against the wall and scooched over to give Felicia room.

Mimi laughed. “You mean about the scandal?”

“Who hasn’t heard?” Jennifer leaned over and gave Felicia a side hug.

“When Dave told me, I thought he was kidding,” Felicia said. “Kitty hasn’t even been in the ground a year.”

Lisa nodded. “Well, Norm was probably just lonely. He needed the companionship.”

“Then buy a dog,” Jennifer suggested. “Of course,” she said, getting tickled, “then people would talk about dogs and a Katt living together!”

The women groaned.

“It would have to be for companionship.” Felicia shouldered Jennifer playfully. “He just met the woman. He couldn’t love her, could he?”

“From what I heard,” Mimi said matter-of-factly, “she’s more like a girl.”

“Ladies!” Lisa smiled but looked a little uncomfortable.

Jennifer knew Lisa was construing this turn as gossipy. Sweet Lisa, Jennifer thought, looking at her friend, seated across the table from her. Always taking the high road. You’d think after four years of us all being friends, we would have picked up some of her good traits.

“Well, well.” A loud, brassy voice interrupted Jennifer’s thoughts. Their plump, gruff-sounding waitress, Gracie, was standing over their table, pulling out the order pad from thewhite apron strapped around her ample thighs. “Glad to see little Miss Señora made it today.”

Felicia pulled back in mock offense. “Hey, I’m only five minutes late!”

“Yeah, yeah.” A slight smile crossed Gracie’s face. She jutted her chin out toward Felicia. “I’m likin’ you without all the high-and-mighty outfits and shoes and whatnot.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Felicia spread her arms in show and bowed her head, as if accepting a standing ovation. Gracie threw back her head and guffawed.

Felicia certainly had changed in the last year she’d been working from home, Jennifer recognized. Her silky black hair, once curled and neatly laying across the top of her shoulders, was now pulled back in a ponytail. And her high-powered business suits and designer shoes had been replaced by a black pair of jeans and a mauve hoodie sweater. Jennifer glanced under the table—Well, her boots are still designer, she thought good-naturedly.

“I like you girls.” Gracie pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “You’re always the highlight of my every-other-Tuesday.”

“Well, thank you, Gracie,” Mimi said. “And you’re ours.”

“All right, enough with the chitchat,” Gracie said. “Are we all having the regulars?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jennifer and the others chimed in.

Gracie harrumphed. “I don’t know why I keep taking out my order pad and pen for you all. OK, PWs, I’ll be back with your drinks.”

Jennifer watched Gracie plod off to her next table of customers several booths toward the front of the café. Jennifer really liked their waitress—and knew her three friends did too. Underneath all Gracie’s gruffness lay a heart as big as an ocean. And it was Gracie who had given the women their official group nickname—the PWs.

When Jennifer, Mimi, Lisa, and Felicia had started secretly meeting at Lulu’s nearly three years before, Gracie had been their waitress. She’d overheard them talking about God and their churches, figured out that they were all pastors’ wives, and nicknamed them. She’d gotten a big kick out of the fact that the women—all hailing from the southwest Ohio town of Red River—would drive forty miles out of their way every other Tuesday to nosh and chat in this little nothing-special dive. Although the PWs never had explained to Gracie that they met that far from home to avoid nosy townsfolk and church members overhearing their business, their now-seventy-year-old waitress hadn’t taken too long to figure out what was going on.

Now Gracie ambled slowly behind the front counter to the rectangular opening between the restaurant and the kitchen. She pounded a bell sitting on the ledge and yelled, “Order in!”

Felicia unfolded her paper napkin and laid it on her lap. “I just can’t believe it,” she mused, shaking her head. “Norm Katt remarried. To a woman half his age.”

“Whom he just met,” Mimi reminded everyone.

Jennifer pulled her eyes from watching the cook grab their order ticket and start to read it. Gracie had interrupted a very important news-sharing moment, and Jennifer didn’t want to miss any of it.

“And did you hear her name?” Mimi asked.

“Allison.” Lisa shook her head, looking as if she were trying to suppress a laugh. “Ally.”

As if in chorus, the women said, “Ally Katt.”

“Does the man never learn?” Felicia laughed. “First, he marries Kitty. And now Ally.”

“Oh, if they have children!” Jennifer said. “They could name one Fraidy.”

Felicia nodded. “Twins, of course, would be named Siamese and Tiger.”

“Of course.” Jennifer smiled.

“You all are so terrible!” Lisa pushed back her thick, reddish-brown-highlighted hair and fluffed it.

Mimi sighed and patted Lisa on the arm. “Oh, we all know it’s just in fun. We really don’t mean anything by it, do we, ladies? But you do have to admit, it is funny.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and shook her head as if to say, You silly kids. “Has anybody seen her?”

“Not that I know of—I mean, except for their church,” Jennifer said. “I guess Norm and his new bride only came back to town a couple weeks ago.”

“Well,” Mimi said, “that kid’s got a tough act to follow. As much as Kitty drove us all crazy, her church adored her. Wonder how they’ll take to a new pastor’s wife?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “But they’ll definitely talk. I hope she knows what she’s gotten herself into.”

“Did any of us know that when we married pastors?” Mimi asked.

Lisa smiled. “I guess not.”

“I sure didn’t!” Jennifer said, thinking back to when she and Sam married twelve years ago. She had been attending the church as a relatively new Christian when Sam arrived on the scene as pastor. “Being a church member and being a pastor’s wife are two entirely different things.”

“I didn’t marry a pastor,” Felicia said. “If you recall, I married a businessman, who decided several years into his career that he was called to be a pastor. I didn’t get that vote.”

Gracie walked toward them, carrying a tray of drinks. She set it down on the edge of their table. “I’m getting too old for this. Can you believe they still make me carry my own trays? And my shoulder all messed up from that fall back in December?”

Gracie had taken a tumble on some ice outside Lulu’s one evening after work several months back and hurt her shoulder and hip.

“Is that still bothering you, Gracie?” Felicia asked.

“I still go to therapy for it, but you know those doctors. You can’t trust ’em.” She handed Mimi a glass of milk and passed Lisa an iced tea. Felicia grabbed the remaining two glasses, each filled with Diet Coke, and handed one to Jennifer.

“Hey!” Gracie said. “You trying to deprive me of my hard-earned tip?”

“Sorry!” Felicia joked. “But you know I’m working from home now. I need all the money I can get.”

“Well, you’d better find a better table. These girls are tighter than a duck’s behind with their money.” She pulled four straws out of her right apron pocket and plopped them in the center of the table.

“I’ll be back.” She winked, then pulled up the tray against her chest and trudged away.

“Can you believe it’s been a year since Kitty died?” Lisa tore the paper off her straw and crumpled it before dipping the straw into her drink.

“I know,” Jennifer said. “I kind of miss her. All the snarky comments about how insignificant our churches were compared to hers. The patronizing tone. The condescending looks.”

“I’m serious!” Lisa said. “It was tragic.”

“I know.” Jennifer sipped her soda. “Believe me, I wish she hadn’t died. It wasn’t a piece of cake for me—going through that miscarriage and being considered a murder suspect in her death—all in the same weekend.” There I go again, making everything about me, she told herself and inwardly winced.

Felicia rubbed Jennifer’s back. That was sweet, Jennifer thought, realizing her friends remembered how difficult that time in her life had been. She’d wanted that baby so badly. And to suffer a miscarriage, have an all-out argument with Kitty, threaten her, then have her up and fall down a ravine and break her neck…. It had been devastating.

“Let’s be honest.” Mimi dabbed at a trace of milk at the corner of her mouth. “We didn’t like her. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. But life has been calmer and more sane and relaxing since she’s been—”

“It was a year ago yesterday,” Felicia said. “St. Patrick’s Day weekend. At the pastors’ wives’ retreat.”

“That reminds me!” Mimi brightened and reached under the table. She pulled up her large purse/diaper-bag and dug into its depths. In her hands appeared two shamrock-and-cross-covered eggs that were the brightest kelly green Jennifer had ever seen. She laid them on the table and reached back in, producing one more. “From Megan. She wanted me to make sure to give these to you. We combined two holidays in one—St. Patrick’s Day and Easter, since that’s this weekend.”

“Carys will like this.” Jennifer picked one up and set it on top of her purse.

“I wonder what she looks like?” Felicia took another of the eggs and placed it by her drink.

“Who?” Lisa asked.

“Norm’s new wife.”

“I wonder if she’ll come to the next pastors’ wives’ meeting at New Life next month?”

“I already called and invited her. She’s coming.” Lisa tore into a packet of sugar and dumped it into her tea.

The table fell silent as Jennifer, Mimi, and Felicia all stared open-mouthed at their friend.

“What?” Lisa asked.

She really doesn’t know, Jennifer realized.

“You’ve been holding out on us, girlfriend!” Mimi said.

“Spill it,” Felicia said.

“What? There’s nothing to tell, really.” Lisa fidgeted a little in her seat. “I called her last Friday. We didn’t talk that long. I just congratulated her on her wedding, welcomed her to Red River and to being a pastor’s wife, then invited her to next month’s meeting.” She looked around the table. “OK. She did sound young . . . and very perky. And . . . she giggled a lot.”

Jennifer, Felicia, and Mimi eyed each other knowingly. Yep, this is going to be a fun meeting next month. How in the world did Norm go from hard-edged, superior Kitty to an early twenties cheerleader?

“Wonder what Kitty would think?” Felicia asked.

Lisa shrugged. “I’d hope she’d be glad that Norm found someone who loves him and is going to take care of him.”

Before Jennifer could say anything, Gracie arrived with their food.

“All right, PWs, quit your yakking and help me unload this thing.” Gracie pulled the first plate off the tray and handed it to Mimi. Mimi looked at the tuna melt and strip of cantaloupe and passed it on to Lisa. Jennifer’s was next with her chicken strips and fries. Then Felicia took her Caesar salad. Last was Mimi’s hamburger.

They got their food situated, passing the ketchup and salt, then Felicia offered grace.

Mimi shoved a fry in her mouth and savored it. “I love Milo, but I gotta tell you, it’s nice to eat a full meal without messy little fingers showing up, grabbing something on my plate.”

Felicia poured the dressing over her salad. “I know what that’s like. Oh, the peace and quiet—and adult conversation!”

Jennifer smiled as she thought of eleven-month-old Carys doing that same thing. But her thoughts drifted back to Kitty and the week following her death. Jennifer had been considered—although not officially—a murder suspect and had had to endure the detectives following her around, treating her like a criminal, until they determined Kitty’s death had been an accident.

“Remember last year when those detectives were following me around?” Jennifer asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

With their mouths all full, the others could only nod and say, “Mmm-hmmm.”

“Well, it’s happening again. At least I think it is.”

“What?” Mimi half-choked and plopped her burger onto her plate. She pounded on her chest with her fist as if trying to move the meat down her esophagus. “Detectives are following you around?”

“I don’t know who it is. But I keep seeing this black town car everywhere I go. Just glimpses of it, really. But . . .” Jennifer knew the whole thing sounded crazy. And verbalizing it made it sound even more outlandish. Maybe I’m just making this up. “Never mind. It’s . . . probably nothing.” She tried to laugh it off. “Just my overactive imagination. You know, with all the sleep deprivation and everything.”

“Oh, yeah, I can relate,” Mimi said. But she tilted her head toward Jennifer. “You OK? I mean, if somebody is following you . . .”

“Why would somebody follow you?” Felicia asked.

“That’s just it.” Jennifer swirled her chicken strip in a sea of barbecue sauce. “I don’t know. I can’t think of one plausible explanation.”

“Maybe it’s a church member trying to dig up dirt on you.” Felicia smiled and patted Jennifer’s arm.

Jennifer laughed. “No, that would be Lisa with that problem.”

Lisa lifted her napkin to hide her face, then let it droop just below her eyes. Wide-eyed, she looked around the diner frantically. They all laughed, but Jennifer knew Lisa was trying to put up a good front. Lisa had lost fifteen pounds in the last six months, and the sparkle in her hazel eyes had lost its shine. Poor Lisa. God, take care of this situation at her church. They don’t deserve this. They’re good people.
“What’s going on with your church?” Jennifer asked, partly to take the focus from her, and partly because she hadn’t heard the update in a while.

Lisa dropped the napkin back to her lap and shrugged. “Same old, same old. At least Joel is still the pastor—though I don’t know for how much longer. He’s meeting with the head troublemaker next week to confront him.”

That’s not going to be easy. Although Jennifer and Sam had had their share of church member issues, they’d never gone through major conflict, as Lisa and her husband, Joel, were now. She ached for them.

Lisa continued. “I just wish . . . you know, if these people are so upset, why do they cause such trouble? Why not just leave? Why make it into a huge power struggle?”

“Because—” Mimi leaned over until her shoulder was touching Lisa’s—“and you should know this better than any of us, Miss Assemblies of God, this is called spiritual warfare. The enemy doesn’t want the church to be vibrant and powerful in the community. He’d rather take down a church from the inside out than have it succeed.”

“Oh, sure, look at it from a spiritual perspective, why don’t you?” Felicia smiled gently.

“It’s hard to do that, though, isn’t it?” Jennifer asked. “Especially when the hurt is so physical and emotional.”

“Well, sweetie, you know you’re in our prayers.” Mimi wrapped her arm around Lisa and squeezed.

Lisa just nodded and looked down. Jennifer could tell her friend was embarrassed, because she’d quickly wiped at her eyes.

“How are things in your life?” Jennifer asked Felicia, trying to take off some of the pressure from Lisa.

“Actually, can’t complain right now.” Felicia swirled around some more dressing in her salad but didn’t look anyone in the eyes. “My clients are happy. I mean, there are challenges working at home. Mostly because everybody thinks that since I’m home, I’m, you know, sitting around watching Dr. Phil and just waiting for someone to put me to good use.”

“Oh, yes.” Mimi laughed. “Been there. Everybody thinks that we live to serve, huh? OK, well, we do, actually—at least that’s what my kids tell me—but still!” She laughed again.

“So that’s been a bit of a challenge. But other than that, things are . . . good.” Felicia held up crossed fingers. “Enjoy the peace while I can, right?”

Jennifer waited to see if Felicia would say any more. She got the sense something else was going on with Felicia but knew her friend would speak up when the time was right.

Lisa must have thought the same, because she turned to Mimi. “And how about you? How’s Dad doing?”

“Awwk.” Mimi rolled her eyes. “As ornery as ever. One of the conditions for Dad staying with us is that he’s supposed to attend his AA meetings. He’s still attending, but he’s also still drinking. He does it on the sly, like he thinks we don’t notice. I don’t know what to do, honestly. We can’t kick him out; he’s got no place else to go.”

“Where’s your mom?” Felicia asked.

“She’s down in Kentucky, staying with her sister. She’s definitely not interested in taking him back. And I don’t blame her. Life with my father has never been easy. But when he ran off to California with that woman . . . I can’t say I’d take him back either, if he were my husband.”

“So instead,” Jennifer said, feeling a little bitter, “you, the daughter, have to take him in and parent him.”

Mimi half-chuckled. “Yep. My sister made it clear she wasn’t interested. So I’m it.”

“Doesn’t that tick you off?” Jennifer said.

“Sometimes, yes. But you know, I’m the responsible one.” She tucked her short, blond hair behind her ears—something she did whenever she was stressed or frustrated about something. “Plus, Mark and I have been trying to look at it from a spiritual perspective. He’s my dad—and he needs the Lord.”

Just like my mother. Jennifer tried to push the thought aside.

“Is he going to church with you yet?” Felicia asked.

“No, that’s one thing he refuses to do. But we keep working on him. It’s really cute to see Megan reprimanding him about not attending.”

Jennifer could picture Mimi’s precocious six-year-old giving her grandfather a lecture about loving Jesus and getting saved.

Gracie reappeared and dropped the check on the table. “Here’s your parting gift, ladies. Hope you have a good week and those preacher husbands of yours treat you all right.”

“Hey, how’s your sister doing, Gracie?” Lisa asked as Gracie started to turn away.

Gracie grimaced and a shadow crossed her face. Jennifer knew Gracie’s sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago and had gone through surgery and chemo.

“Not good. She just went to the doc last week. It’s back and vicious.”

“I thought she had it beat,” Jennifer said.

“We thought so too, but when she went in for a checkup, they found it. It’s in her bones and I don’t know where all.”

“Oh, Gracie, we’re so sorry.” Mimi touched Gracie’s hand. Gracie squeezed it and held on.

“Oh, Gracie,” Jennifer murmured.

“That’s terrible,” said Lisa.

Felicia just shook her head, her face heavy.

“I’m flying down there to Florida next week to be with her,” Gracie said. “So I guess I won’t see you next time.”

“We’ll be praying for your sister—and for you,” Lisa said.

Gracie nodded and let go of Mimi’s hand. “I know you will. If God hears anybody, I know it’s you four women. Pray hard, will ya? Maybe he’ll take pity on an old, crotchety woman and her sister.” She winked, then turned and walked slowly away.

Jennifer and the others looked at one another but didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I had no idea.” Felicia’s eyes followed Gracie as she tended to her other customers on the other side of the restaurant.

“She didn’t let on at all that something was up,” Mimi said, looking amazed at how well Gracie had covered up her pain.

“Maybe we should pray for her and her sister right now,” Lisa suggested.

Jennifer and the others agreed. There was no better time and place to pray.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Do Over - Giveaway!


I have a second memoir to giveaway from Anna and Hachette Books! Aren't they great?! This one is Do-Over by Robin Hemley which sounds like it will be a fun read.

Robin Hemley's childhood made a wedgie of his memory, leaving him sore and embarrassed for over forty years. He was the most pitiful kindergartner, the least spirited summer camper, and dateless for prom. In fact, there's nary an event from his youth that couldn't use improvement. If only he could do them all over a few decades later, with an adult's wisdom, perspective, and giant-like height...

In the spirit of cult film classics like Billy Madison and Wet Hot American Summer, in DO-OVER! Hemley reencounters paper mache, revisits his childhood home, and finally attends the prom--bringing readers the thrill of recapturing a misspent youth and discovering what's most important: simple pleasures, second chances, and the forgotten joys of recess.

Now for the rules:


  1. Giveaway open only to residents of U.S. or Canada.
  2. Books will be sent from Hachette.
  3. No P.O. Boxes
  4. Contest ends April 20!
  5. There will be 5 winners!

Now - how do you get entries?

Most Important - MUST LEAVE EMAIL ADDRESS IN ENTRY TO RECEIVE CREDIT

  1. Comment and tell me you want to win! +1
  2. Subscribe to my blog/Follow my blog. +2 (Let me know if you already follow and you will get those entries also)
  3. Tweet about the giveaway/Post on your blog. +2

Start entering! Good Luck! Please see my other giveaway in sidebar!

Jantsen's Gift - Giveaway!



Thanks to Anna and Hachette Books I have 5 copies of Jantsen's Gift to give away! This is a memoir by Pam Cope (and Amy Malloy) and it sounds like it will be a tearjerker!

Nine years ago, Pam Cope owned a cozy hair salon in the tiny town of Neosho, Missouri, and her life revolved around her son's baseball games, her daughter's dance lessons, and family trips to places like Disney World. She had never been out of the country, nor had she any desire to travel far from home.

Then, on June 16th, 1999, her life changed forever with the death of her 15-year-old son from an undiagnosed heart ailment.

Needing to get as far away as possible from everything that reminded her of her loss, she accepted a friend's invitation to travel to Vietnam, and, from the moment she stepped off the plane, everything she had been feeling since her son's death began to shift. By the time she returned home, she had a new mission: to use her pain to change the world, one small step at a time, one child at a time. Today, she is the mother of two children adopted from Vietnam. More than that, she and her husband have created a foundation called "Touch A Life," dedicated to helping desperate children in countries as far-flung as Vietnam, Cambodia and Ghana.

Pam Cope's story is on one level a moving, personal account of loss and recovery, but on a deeper level, it offers inspiration to anyone who has ever suffered great personal tragedy or those of us who dream about making a difference in the world.

Now for the rules:

  1. Giveaway open only to residents of U.S. or Canada.
  2. Books will be sent from Hachette.
  3. No P.O. Boxes
  4. Contest ends March 31 (My Birthday!)
  5. There will be 5 winners!

Now - how do you get entries?

Most important - MUST LEAVE EMAIL ADDRESS IN ENTRY TO RECEIVE CREDIT

  1. Comment and tell me you want to win! +1
  2. Subscribe to my blog/Follow my blog. +2 (Let me know if you already follow and you will get those entries also)
  3. Tweet about the giveaway/Post on your blog. +2

Start entering! Good Luck! Please see my other giveaway in sidebar!

Are You Evil?

This was a cute little quiz that I found over at Passages to the Past. Where my raw evil score is slightly higher than Amy's - we are both Secretly Evil. I wonder if that is worse than being Openly Evil?

Booking Through Thursday 3-19-2009



Today's question is: “What’s the worst ‘best’ book you’ve ever read — the one everyone says is so great, but you can’t figure out why?”

This book only encompasses the amount of time since I have been blogging. Before that time I didn't really pay much attention to what everyone else said about books-If I wanted to read it, I did or vice versa. So I am going to have to say - The House on Mango Street by Hannah Cisneros. I know - it won the American Book Awards and I had some different bloggers ask me why I didn't like it. . . I think it is because it was a series of vignettes/short stories - and I really don't like this format. I read it for an online challenge - and am glad I went outside by comfort zone - but didn't increase my lack of love for short stories. You can go here to see my review.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Thursday Thunks 3-19-09

Time for this weeks set of questions from Thursday Thunks! Head on over here to play along!

1. The last flight of stairs you walked up/down - were they carpeted?

Yes!

2. Green or purple grapes?

Green - definitely!

3. Do you like Peeps?

No way - reminded of a Malcolm in the Middle episode where the older brother was bet how many Peeps he could put in his body - the joke when he could no longer eat any more was "They didn't say he had to eat them. . ."

4. The smell of Vicks - like it?

I love the smell of Vicks - I had bad allergies growing up so pretty much all through winter had Vicks under my nose or on my chest - it reminds me of my mom!

5. Do you put decorative cling-ons on your windows for different holidays?

My kids love to put those clings up - but I guess since I am the one that buys them. . .

6. Finish the sentence - I spent too much money on my glasses.

7. Which celebrity should be flown into outer space or placed on a deserted island?

Tom Cruise

8. Would you support schools changing the "open" time? Such as 10AM to 5PM for example?

No- around here the traffic is bad enough at 5PM - don't want to add school traffic to that also!

9. Do you go fishing?

Absolutely - I would not be my father's daughter if I didn't.

10. What question should we ask next week?

What is the last thing you do before you go to sleep at night?

Waiting on Wednesday: Deadlock

This week's pre-publication "can't-wait-to-read" selection is:



Deadlock by Robert Liparulo

(A John Hutchinson Novel)

Publisher: Thomas Nelson

Available March 31, 2009 (My Birthday!)

Product Description from Amazon:


Hutch's survival skills and ingenuity saved him once in the deep woods. Can they save him this time in the city?


John Hutchinson thinks it's no coincidence that Brendan Page runs this modern Praetorian Guard, and that the billionaire military industrialist must have had something to do with the atrocities his son Declan committed in Canada. The Canadian and U.S. Justice departments disagree, but Hutch has been digging for dirt ever since.


When Hutch discovers the secret of Page's success, Page decides to teach him a lesson. But the operation goes terribly wrong, and Hutch's son is kidnapped. While a lone man stands little chance against the best black op soldiers ever issued M-16s, Hutch manages to survive longer than Page anticipated.


As far as Hutch is concerned, high-tech helmets, machine guns, and hand grenades are nothing compared to a man determined to save his son. It's a lesson he sets out to teach Page-and one that he can only hope works as well in the real world as it does in his heart.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Marked by Passion by Kate Perry (Book Review)


Title: Marked by Passion (Book 1 in Guardians of Destiny Series)
Author: Kate Perry
Publisher: Hachette
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Available: Now
Read courtesy of Hachette Books!
First sentence: Gabrielle Sansouci Chin?

Gabe had left her family and her heritage behind 15 years ago - after her mother had died - for which she was responsible. She was now a bartender at The Pour House and an aspiring artist. With her first showing in a few weeks, all she had to worry about was finishing the paintings in the series - or so she thought.

When the package arrived, she assumed it was the contract for her showing - until she discovered it was accompanied by a ghost! The ghost of her father, Wu, no less. It came as a shock to her to realize that her father was dead, but she had put her family and heritage behind her long ago - and now they were back.

The package contained a scroll and she had just become it's guardian. Tu ch'i - the power that accompanied the scroll - began to surge inside her. Wu had come to teach her how to control her power before it controlled - or worse - destroyed her.

Two more men entered her life within days of receiving the scroll. Her older brother, Paul, who had always felt he should be the one destined to be the Guardian, but without the birthmark, it was not his destiny. And then Rhys - who was handsome, rich, powerful - and could calm Gabe's tu ch'i with just a kiss.

I have not read a lot of paranormal books, but they are quickly becoming my favorite. Kate Perry gives her characters such life. Even though it was a paranormal - I felt like these were people you could actually find at the corner bar. The chemistry between Gabe and Rhys sizzled off the page!

In addition to Gabe, Wu, Paul and Rhys there is also Jesse - Gabe's ex-boyfriend from a year ago, Carrie - another bartender and the epitome of the Midwestern girl next door and Vivian, the buxom bartender you love to hate. These people rounded out the story and helped to give it a realistic flair.

If you like paranormal, you will like this book - if you like romance, this book will also appeal to you. If you like both - then this will be a true winner!

The second book in the series - Chosen by Desire is due out in the winter of 2010.

Teaser Tuesdays 3-17-2009


TEASER TUESDAYS asks you to:
Grab your current read.
Let the book fall open to a random page.
Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12.
You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from … that way people can have some great book recommendations if they like the teaser you’ve given!
Please avoid spoilers!




Rita Kay had invited him to attend the Seaside Festival of the Arts with her two weeks ago, and he hadn't wanted to break the date at the last minute, even though he hadn't been all that into the idea of going out tonight after pulling his caveman bit with Babette this afternoon. He'd much rather have continued playing caveman, or at least spent a little time determining why he had. (Flirting with Temptation, p176)

First Wild Card Tour: Diamonds in the Shadow by Caroline B. Cooney

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:




Diamonds in the Shadow

WaterBrook Press; Reprint edition (March 17, 2009)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:








Caroline B. Cooney is the author of A Friend at Midnight; The Face on the Milk Carton (an IRA-CBC Children’s Choice book); its companions, Whatever Happened to Janie and The Voice on the Radio(each of them an ALA Best Book for Young Adults); and many other award-winning novels. Caroline divides her time between Madison, Connecticut, and New York City.





Product Details:



List Price: $8.95

Reading level: Young Adult

Paperback: 240 pages

Publisher: WaterBrook Press; Reprint edition (March 17, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 140007424X

ISBN-13: 978-1400074242



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:






Jared Finch could not care less where some refugee family lived.



“Drew and Kara Finch have generously volunteered to take the family in,” said Dr. Nickerson. The room applauded. Jared stared at his parents in horror. The refugees were coming here? His little sister, a mindlessly happy puppy of a kid, cried out in delight. If Mopsy had ever had an intelligent thought in her life, she kept it to herself.



“Yay!” cried Mopsy. “It’ll be like sleepovers every night.”



Jared gagged.



“You see, Jared, we have a lovely guest suite,” said his mother, as if he didn’t live here and wouldn’t know, “where the parents can stay and have their own bathroom.”



This implied that there were kids who would not be staying in the guest suite. So they would be staying where, exactly?



“Your room and Mopsy’s are so spacious, Jared darling,” his mother went on. “And you each have two beds, for when your friends spend the night. And your own bathrooms! It’s just perfect, isn’t it?”



Jared’s mother and father had volunteered his bedroom for a bunch of African refugees? And not even asked him? “I’m supposed to share my bedroom with some stranger?” he demanded. Jared did not share well. It had been a problem since nursery school. Mrs. Lane, a woman Jared especially loathed, because he was fearful that Mopsy would grow up to be just like her—stout and still giggling—said excitedly,



“That’s why your family’s offer is so magnificent, Jared.” Jared figured her last name was actually Lame.



“You will guide and direct young people who would otherwise be confused and frightened by the new world in which they find themselves,” cried Mrs. Lame. She definitely had somebody else in mind. Jared did not plan to guide and direct anybody. Jared’s bedroom was his fortress. It had his music, his video games, his television and his computer. It was where he made his phone calls. As for Africa, Jared knew nothing about the entire continent except what he’d seen on nature shows, where wild animals were always migrating or else eating each other. But about Africans themselves, aside from the occasional Jeep driver, TV had nothing to say. And there was always more important stuff on the news than Africa, like weather or celebrities. Jared would be forced to hang out with some needy non-English-speaking person in clothes that didn’t fit? Escort that person into his own school? Act glad?



“I decline,” said Jared.



“The church signed a contract, Jared,” said Dr. Nickerson.



“We are responsible for this family.” “I didn’t sign anything,” said Jared. “I don’t have a responsibility.” The committee glared at Jared. Jared glared right back. They weren’t volunteering to share their bedrooms. No, they could force two handy kids to do it. “My sister and I are the only ones who actually have to do any sharing? You guys get to contribute your old furniture or worthless televisions that you didn’t want anyway for when these guys get their own place, but meanwhile Mopsy and I have to take them in?” He hoped to make the committee feel guilty. Everybody did look guilty but also really relieved, because of course they didn’t want to share a bedroom either.



“It’ll be so wonderful!” cried Mopsy, hugging herself. “Is there going to be a girl who can be my best friend?” It was getting worse. People would expect Jared to be best friends with this person who would invade his life.



“What went wrong with the rental?” asked Jared, thinking he would just kill whoever was getting the apartment, thus freeing it up again for these refugees.



“The owner’s eighty-year-old grandmother, who’s blind, is moving in with her caregiver.”



Oh, please. That was such a lie. How many eighty-year-old blind grandmothers suddenly had to move in with their caregiver? The owners were probably remodeling so they could sell the place for a million dollars instead.



“What are we supposed to do, Jared?” asked Dr. Nickerson in his most religious voice. “Abandon four people on the sidewalk?” They’d been abandoned anyway; that was what it meant to be a refugee. Jared opened his mouth to say so, but a movement from his father caught his eye. Dad was sagging in his chair, deaf and blind to the meeting. Having a family of refugees in the house probably wasn’t his choice either; Mom had saddled him with it. He wasn’t on this committee, and the last committee on which Dad had served had gone bad. His co-chairman had turned out to be a felon and a bum. But Jared had more important things to worry about right now. “How long are these guys supposed to live here?” he demanded.



“We don’t know,” admitted the minister. “This is an expensive town. We’re going to have trouble finding a low-cost rent for people earning minimum wage. We probably found the only place there is, and now it’s gone. We’ll have to look in the cities nearby—New London, New Haven. And probably in bad neighborhoods. It’s a problem we didn’t anticipate.”



Jared never prayed, because the idea of a loving God seemed out of sync with the facts of the world. Nevertheless, Jared prayed now. Please, God, don’t let there be a boy in this family. Make Mopsy do all the sharing. I can squeeze my extra twin bed into her room. I’ll even move it cheerfully. “What do we know about these guys?” he said.



“Very little.” Dr. Nickerson waved a single sheet of paper. He handed it to the person sitting farthest away from Jared, ensuring that Jared would be the last to know the grim truth. “That’s why we’ve gathered here tonight. Let me introduce our representative from the Refugee Aid Society, Kirk Crick.”



What kind of name was that? It sounded like a doll Mopsy would collect. And what was up with Kirk Crick that he couldn’t even photocopy enough pages for everybody to have one? It didn’t exactly give Jared faith in the guy’s organizational skills.



“He’s going to discuss the work ahead of us and some of the difficulties and joys we can expect,” said the minister. Like there could be joy with four total strangers in your house for an unknown period of time. The guy didn’t smile, which Jared appreciated, since it was easy to overdose on good cheer. Just look at Mopsy.



“I find that my name annoys people,” said Kirk Crick, “but it’s memorable. You can call me either one—or neither.”



This worked for Jared, who hoped to have nothing to do with the man or his refugees. Kirk Crick launched into a long, tedious description. It seemed that the African family to be foisted off on Jared might never have been in a grocery store, never used an indoor stove or a computer, maybe never driven a car or heard of credit cards, never taken a hot shower or encountered cold weather, never seen a shopping mall. In their entire country, there was not a single ATM. There had not been reliable electricity for a decade.



“They probably can’t drive,” said Kirk Crick, “a problem here in suburbia. They’ll be used to buses, and maybe taxis, but mostly if they have to go somewhere, they walk. Or run. Remember, they fled a civil war. They’ve lived in a refugee camp in Nigeria for several years, with little shelter of any kind—six thousand people in an outdoor pen.” This was an obvious exaggeration intended to make Jared feel sorry for people who were going to trespass on his life. “The good news is that they speak English, the official language in Liberia, where native tribal languages are used mostly at home. Their accent will be difficult to understand, but they won’t have difficulty understanding you. “According to this, the parents finished eighth grade. The kids probably attended school at the refugee camp, although those schools usually have no paper, pencils or books. Sometimes no teachers either. The children are fifteen and sixteen, but we can’t tell from their names whether they’re boys or girls. We’ll just run with it when we meet them at the airport. We weren’t expecting this family to arrive for another month, so it’s just great that you people are so flexible.” Nobody here has to be flexible but me, thought Jared. Mrs. Lame suddenly decided that everybody needed coffee. Right in the middle of the guy’s talk, off she went into the kitchen, which meant Jared’s mom had to go with her, and then the two of them circulated, offering regular and decaf, whole milk and skim and sugar or sweetener in yellow, pink or blue packets. Brand preference was one of the million things this African family was going to have to learn. As long as Jared didn’t have to do the teaching—whatever. Kirk Crick droned on. Basically nobody except Jared even knew he was up there; certainly not Jared’s parents. They were such bad listeners that Jared didn’t see how they’d ever gotten through college. They multitasked to the max. When they watched television, they were also cooking, leafing through the newspaper, talking on the phone and balancing their checkbooks. Here was information that would change their lives and they were thinking about ten other things instead. The Finches’ beautiful yellow and cream family room was a huge space, with three soft, welcoming sofas and four large armchairs. As the sun went down beyond the wall of glass, people nestled into cushions and got sleepy. “Refugees,” said Kirk Crick, “have nothing, and that also means no paperwork. People racing out of villages only inches ahead of madmen with machetes or AK-47s don’t pause to collect birth certificates or vaccination papers.” Mom was arranging desserts, something church ladies did well. Jared wondered what Mrs. Wall had brought, because she was a great cook.



Then he remembered. Mrs. Wall wasn’t here. It was her husband, Brady, who had co-chaired the fund-raising committee with Dad. Over two years they had raised seven hundred fifty thousand dollars for the new church building. They’d had fairs, auctions, pledge campaigns, concerts and dinners. And three days earlier, the church had found out that Brady Wall had been siphoning off that money and gambling it away at Foxwoods. It wasn’t just stolen. It was gone. Jared’s mom was friends with Emmy, Brady Wall’s wife. Jared had a bad feeling that one day soon Emmy would be in the kitchen sobbing all over Mom. It was going to be a very crowded kitchen, since it would also be full of Africans sobbing all over Mom. Jared hoped she was up to it, because he had just decided to sign up for every school-sponsored ski trip in order to be out of town Fridays through Sundays. The less sharing, the better. “One problem getting refugees to America is just finding seats on a plane,” said Kirk Crick. “There aren’t many flights. Probably something opened up very suddenly, or four other people couldn’t go after all, so your four moved to the head of the line. Your family is flying to London, where they’ll change planes for Kennedy Airport. Now, you’ll need subcommittees. Who will be handling medical needs and doctors?”



“Wait,” said Jared. “What medical needs? Are these people planning to show up complete with typhoid and malaria?”



“No. They get checked in Africa for that stuff. But the kids can’t start school until they’ve been inoculated for tetanus and all. Just like any other kid starting school. They’ll be spending a bunch of time at the doctor’s. Your family’s background has been screened as well. African civil war consists of people butchering each other. Our task force makes sure you’re not getting some mass murderer responsible for destroying whole villages, or a dealer in blood diamonds, or some vicious boy soldier.”



“I’ve heard about boy soldiers,” said Mr. Lane. (Jared was always surprised that anybody had married Mrs. Lane and even more surprised that such a person ever had a chance to talk.) “Ten-year-olds who chop people’s arms off and walk away,” explained Mr. Lane. No kid would do that. It was the kind of hype spewed on satellite radio—anything to make the world sound even more violent than it was. The whole idea of screening people struck Jared as useless. Being screened would be like taking an essay test where you wrote whatever your teacher wanted to hear. We’re kind and gentle, the refugees would say. We didn’t hurt anybody. Goodness, no. We were the victims.



“What are blood diamonds?” asked Mopsy.



“Diamonds that are mined in West Africa and used to pay for war,” said Kirk Crick. He seemed ready to expound on this, but



Jared didn’t care about mines. He cared about the strangers soon to be under his roof.



“If the family doesn’t have any papers to start with, how does the Refugee Aid Society even know for sure who they are?” Jared asked.



“We’re very, very, very careful,” said Kirk Crick.



Jared was suspicious. Right in their own church they had been careful and they’d still ended up with a major-league thief on the fund-raising committee. “Is there really such a thing as a boy soldier?”



“Yes. Often when a village is attacked, the boys are out in the fields watching the cattle. So parents get caught, killed or maimed, girls get raped and killed, villages get burned to the ground, but young boys get rounded up. They’re forced to use machine guns and machetes on their own neighbors.”



Nice. Jared decided to e-mail everyone he’d ever met and find someone to live with until this was over. “A boy who spends the day out in some field with cows won’t exactly fit in with suburban America in the twenty-first century,” he pointed out.



“You have your work cut out for you,” agreed Kirk Crick.



“Now, your African family may not wish to discuss their past. They want to look ahead, not back. You’re getting an intact family, which is unusual. Four people who struggled and suffered and now hope to put terror behind them. Your church signed on to cover housing and food for three months and to find jobs for the parents. After three months, the family is on its own. If they can’t function—and that’s rare, because refugees are fighters—the Society takes over.”



Three months? thought Jared. Three months? Nobody but Jared seemed to think this was insane.



“You are doing a good deed,” said Crick.



The committee loved hearing how good and generous they were. They sat tall. They took lemon bars as well as double-chocolate brownies. Jared’s dad began talking softly to one of the husbands, undoubtedly about Brady Wall, because that was now Dad’s only topic of conversation. Mom was asking Mrs. Lame for her toasted almond cake recipe. The rest of the crowd was finding car keys. Jared was the only person listening to Kirk Crick.



“In a civil war,” Crick said, “there are no good guys. They’re all guilty of something. You are probably not saving the innocent, because in a civil war, nobody is innocent.”



Jared had never seen a refugee; the Society had seen thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. And that was the summary? There are no good guys? This made the refugee scene quite exciting. Jared’s roommate would have a history of fighting and killing. On the other hand . . . how much fighting and killing did Jared really want in his own bedroom? The piece of paper describing this family finally circulated to Jared. On it were four black-and-white photographs that had probably been grainy and unfocused to start with. After much copying or downloading, they were so blurred that the four faces hardly had features. The photos were from the shoulders up, and everybody’s hair was pulled tightly back, or else cut close, and as far as Jared could tell, these guys could be anybody. These could even be four photographs of the same person. There were dates below each photo, possibly dates of birth, but they were smudged and only partially legible. After close scrutiny, he decided that the two on top looked older. Probably the parents. The names typed under those photos (Typed! Not even done on a computer!) were Celestine Amabo and Andre Amabo. It seemed odd that they had French-sounding names. The photo in the lower left was labeled “Mattu” and the one on the lower right, “Alake.” No clues how to pronounce those names or whether the people were male or female. We are taking people under our roof for months at a stretch, thought Jared Finch. We can’t read their dates of birth. We can’t tell what gender they are. We can’t recognize them from their photographs. We know in advance that they are not good guys.

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...