Phew…. at least I got that off my chest. Once upon a time – before kid – before marriage – before my eyes were opened to the reality of other people needing me. Ugh. I used to devour one “meaningful” book after another. My brain knew no bounds, I just sucked it all in, and even
Almost Paradise by Susan Isaacs My rating: 2 of 5 stars I tried, I tried so hard to like this book. The potential was there – if you were looking for an epic novel and not a vacation read. The intertwined lives of two star-crossed lovers, now middle-aged on the edge of divorce. Tragedy strikes
Just as quickly as the light of recognition dawned, it went out. The warmth of his smile remained as he said, “How can I help you little lady?” A good question – how could he help her? Did she imagine that look? CiCi was pretty sure he saw something. Should she take the chance –
She needed air and answers. Remembering an old drugstore/soda fountain downstairs, she grabbed the keys and tested the creaky stairs. The Louisiana afternoon slammed into her. She breathed the humid air deep into her lungs to acclimate. Two doors down she stepped into a store frozen in time. The bell on the door tinkled; dust
Head hanging down, soul wracked by the weight of this knowledge. “Who am I?!” She screamed to an empty room. Silent tears poured down CiCi’s face as she stared at a picture of this woman; her mother. Skin glowing, laughing eyes, she clearly loved the person behind the camera. This was the missing piece. Lu
CiCi’s world began to spin. This didn’t fit. This wasn’t what she was told. She began to tear frantically through the photos – one after another, happy family; Mom, Dad, Baby Girl. Mom, Dad, Baby Girl. Folded in half at the end of the album was a letter. Worn, creased, discolored. Lu, I love you.
He dug himself a hole in the ground, he knew it was a long shot. The sky was darkening quickly and soon everything would change. If what Verin said was true, things were about to get very interesting. Since his father had tossed him out as a child, he had apprenticed to be a huntsman.
She sat on the floor, sweat dripping down her back. She hadn’t even known her aunt Lu existed until the lawyer called about the will. This dingy little apartment looked like it might have been homey. She sunk into a reverie about what life would have been like in the French Quarter 40 years ago,
Sinking into the sofa, I plead, “Kipliegh, I’m exhausted. Please? I know I promised. Seriously, what is it with you and these starving musicians?” She’s primping, not listening. We both know she’s already won. “JEN!” She screams, what she thinks that will accomplish, I cannot tell. “Come on! Remember Drake? He’ll be there.” I remember.