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To ALL our followers....It is time for Book Lovin' Mamas to make the switch from Blogger to Wordpress.
We do not want to wake up one day and notice that we cannot logon to our blog due to Blogger changing its policies.
We have worked too hard to have that happen...so it is long overdue, we have moved over to our domain.
It will make it easier for YA'LL to find us.
We have already started to post over at the new site...and August 1st will be official day we say GOODBYE to this site for good.
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We hope to see everyone of you over there and I hope you all are prepared for lots of giveaways coming in August and are prepared for Anna & I's big 30th birthday bash - August 18th-September 5th.
We have lots of stuff to giveaway to you all and we are bringing our 30th birthday in style. =)
GOODBYE Blogger - It was nice while it lasted...but it's time for a BIG change and to make it easier for our followers to find us. =)
Showing posts with label Tribute Books Blog Tour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tribute Books Blog Tour. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Blog Tour: "Gilded Wings" by Amy Lignor (Guest Post/Promo/Excerpt/Giveaway)
Welcome to our Virtual Tour stop of "Gilded Wings" by Amy Lignor, brought to you by Tribute Books.
The Voices in Your Head
I know…right? It sounds like an ad for “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is coming to Blu-Ray!” But for this blog, I am actually speaking about the writer’s mind.
I work and talk with writers on a daily basis and the one thing it seems we all have in common is the fact that we have hundreds of voices talking inside our heads at any given moment. Albeit, some are the voices of our kids screaming at us that whatever we just said is “Not fair!” Other voices are our co-workers who are mumbling and grumbling (just like we are) about the job. And even others, are from the good-cop/bad-cop living inside each one of us telling us what to do and what not to do. But the others…oh, yeah…those tons of others…those are the characters we can’t seem to get to shut up (even though we really don’t want them to). They are the ones taking us to different locations, filling us in on what their next steps should be on the pages of the next novel; they, in fact, become our best friends.
Matthew and Emily have spoken to me for a good, long time. Emily’s deep voice mutters a lot and actually sounds like me, but Matthew is always far more helpful and entertaining. When I first heard him at the age of thirteen, he was that voice that was trying to help me through a difficult time. And as I aged, he kept right on talking. At the time, I had no idea The Angel Chronicles would come out. The first time I even wrote about the angel/warrior team it was in a diary entry as a kid, so I had no inkling that their adventures would become a tale to be told.
Leah Tallent is also a person in my head. She’s the head librarian of the NYPL that’s the ‘star’ of the Tallent & Lowery adventure series that I write. I never knew when I first heard her - which was after I first walked into that stunning library and decided that no matter where I went in the world I WOULD come back and beg the owners of that place to let me live in their basement until I died a quiet death from reading - that Leah would give me the really cool puzzles that she’s ended up giving me. When 13 - the first Tallent & Lowery book comes out December 1st - I will finally have Leah in my hands - just like I have Emily and Matthew now. That will be one of the most heart-wrenching things for me, because the voice in my head will become completely real.
When I talk to writers, they sound like the ‘kid on Christmas morning’ and it is a total rush. I know how they feel. And when a writer begins to talk about the voice in their head that they’re concentrating on - it can be anyone from the ‘hot guy’ that we all long to have walk into our house with a bouquet of flowers, to the poet, the independent woman, the teen with a crush on her favorite demon or monster…you name it, they’re in there.
This is actually one career (and maybe the only one) that allows us to claim all those voices in our heads. With this career, we can have a whole bunch of personalities, but without the need to pick up a cleaver and take out the neighborhood.
I am so thrilled with all these people talking to me - although it does make me zone out every once in a while at the wrong times (you know…when you’re supposed to be listening to your boss?), but, hey, what can you do? And in Book III, the ‘voice’ premise will be a huge part of Emily and Matthew’s life, so I look forward to addressing that when my fingers next hit the keyboard for them.
Until Next Time, Everybody,
Amy
Until Next Time
(The Angel Chronicles, #1)
Publishing Date: 2/1/12
Publisher: Tribute Books
Description:
How does a girl choose between the one who steals her heart and the one who owns her soul?
Matt and Emily were created for a specific job. Raised and trained as the ultimate angel/warrior team, they are sent down to save, defend, judge and forgive, depending on the 'life' they've been assigned. What they don't realize is that the power of human emotions, such as love, anger, passion and fear can take over even the best of souls, causing them to make mistakes and follow paths that lead to confusion and heartache.
When the reason for their training is finally revealed, the angel/warrior team find themselves thrust into a world they know nothing about. Matt takes over the life of Daniel, a young man with a great deal of baggage. Emily becomes Liz, a girl living in a remote village who relies on nothing more than her own strength to survive. A violent storm erupts one night, and framed in the window of Liz's establishment is a frightening face. Let in by the soul of a Good Samaritan, the two visitors bring with them a past full of secrets that could literally change an angel's path and a warrior's plans.
From murder to redemption, this angel/warrior team must find a way to keep the faith they have in each other in a world that's ripping them apart.
Gilded Wings
(The Angel Chronicles, #2)
Publishing Date: 11/1/12
Description:
The Beloved Angel-Warrior Team from Until Next Time Returns!
When Matt and Emily are sent on their second mission they have no idea how truly dark human nature can become...
Emily never wanted to face humans again. With the heartache that went on down below, she’s still trying to figure out how to save souls that don’t deserve saving. The only one she wants to see again is Jason - the young man she fell in love with who became the soulmate she simply can’t forget...
Matt was trained to protect and defend the souls down below. Longing to feel the heartfelt emotions that come from being human, Matt wants nothing more than to have just one life - one chance - to live and love the girl of his dreams...
The powerful team find themselves in a brand new century, living in the Gilded Age of New York City. Emily takes over the body of Anya, a young Russian girl who arrives on Ellis Island after a hideous tragedy. There she meets up with a strangely familiar young man by the name of Drew Parrish, who helps Anya survive in an unknown world of luxury, snobbery and…obsession.
What Anya’s inner angel doesn’t know is that the soul she loves is also back. This time around Jason goes by the name of Max Carrow. Once a quiet and kind boy, he’s now part of the ‘Four Hundred Club,’ and wants nothing more than to be among the most admired as he climbs the shaky ladder of society’s elite.
As two worlds merge, Emily and Matt struggle under the weight of their “Gilded Wings.” Not only will they have to figure out who they should fight to save, but they must also face a romantic choice that could destroy them both.
“And you, Master Myles, are handsome. Just like my Gregori.”
The little boys giggled as she reached out to tickle them.
“You’re going to teach me things. Daddy said so,” he continued. “But Brighton says you should get up for breakfast instead of making the whole household wait for you.”
A shot of alarm raced through Anya’s body. “What time is it?”
“Nine,” Gregori said. “You slept for a long time. You should come downstairs, Anya. There’s lots and lots of good stuff down there. Drake can make anything.”
Anya raised an eyebrow. “Drake? Well, you have been busy this morning. Already met the household, have you? I hope you haven’t been bothering anyone, Gregori. Remember, we’re guests...workers in this house.”
Myles shook his head vigorously. “No. Daddy says you’re family now. Come on.”
Anya used all her energy to abandon her comfortable bed and rush to the closet. After unsuccessfully trying to flatten her thick, wavy hair, she came out of the room to find a brand new dress laid out on her bed; a lovely green dress with matching jacket rested on the elegant quilt. Hearing a bell ring from downstairs, Anya raced to put it on. She straightened the velvet material—molding it to her body. Anya felt like the Tsarina, herself, as she swiftly walked out the door and down the hall.
Amy Lignor began her career at Grey House Publishing in northwest Connecticut where she was the Editor-in-Chief of numerous educational and business directories.
Now she is a published author of several works of fiction. The Billy the Kid historical The Heart of a Legend; the thriller, Mind Made; and the adventure novel, Tallent & Lowery 13.
She is also the owner of The Write Companion, a company that offers help and support to writers through a full range of editorial services from proofreading and copyediting to ghostwriting and research. As the daughter of a research librarian, she is also an active book reviewer.
Currently, she lives with her daughter, mother and a rambunctious German Shepherd named Reuben, in the beautiful state of New Mexico.
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Gilded Wings Twitter Hashtag: #GildedWings | Gilded Wings Goodreads Page | Until Next Time Goodreads Page | The Angel Chronicles website | The Angel Chronicles Facebook Page |
Monday, September 3, 2012
Blog Tour: "Back to Bataan" by Jerome Charyn (Spotlight)
5. What would be your advice to young people who aspire to a literary career?
It's not worthy the money - only write if you're absolutely in love with it.
6. How much of your life is in Back to Bataan? How did you personally experience New York during World War II?
Not really, I think all writing is crime writing. And Back to Bataan is a crime novel with a very original twist.
8. Why did you decide to include the fascination with the famous as a theme - Gary Cooper, Eleanor Roosevelt, etc?
These people were heroes to me a child, particularly Eleanor Roosevelt, who was one of the most extraordinary women who ever lived, and of course as a child I fell in love with Gary Cooper's face and with his very slow drawl that seemed so exotic to me.
9. Jack finds acclaim through his writing, yet feels guilty for exploiting other people (Mrs. Fink). How does a writer starting out work to bridge this gap?
You're always cannibalizing other people and writers when you start to write, so it's natural that Jack should be a young cannibal.
10. How important is the New York Times in your own life? Why did you decide to make it a form of connection between Jack and the Leader?
As a child, I didn't even know that the Times existed - I grew up in a neighborhood without newspapers and books, so that when I first fell upon the New York Times, I was very very greedy, and wanted to include it in Jack's middle-class life.
Back to Bataan
Publishing Date: July 1, 2012
eBook
ISBN: 9780985792206
ISBN: 9781476119076
Pages: 98
Buy Links: Kindle | Nook | iBookstore | Google |
Summary:
New York City, 1943. War is raging in Europe and the Pacific, while Jack Dalton is stuck attending Dutch Masters Day School. What Jack really wants is to enlist in the army, to fight...
Everything changes when Coco, Jack's "fiancee," throws him over for one of his classmates. Jack sees red and does something drastic. Then he runs away. Hiding out in a nearby park, Jack joins ranks with a group of vagrants and is soon under the sway of a man called the Leader, an ex-convict who is as articulate and charismatic as he is dangerous. The Leader turns Jack's world upside down. To put things right, Jack must prove himself a braver soldier than he ever imagined.
Everything changes when Coco, Jack's "fiancee," throws him over for one of his classmates. Jack sees red and does something drastic. Then he runs away. Hiding out in a nearby park, Jack joins ranks with a group of vagrants and is soon under the sway of a man called the Leader, an ex-convict who is as articulate and charismatic as he is dangerous. The Leader turns Jack's world upside down. To put things right, Jack must prove himself a braver soldier than he ever imagined.
Excerpt:
Mauricette told Harriet Godwin I was the pig of the class. I had treated her like garbage. Mauricette wouldn't answer my phone calls. She wouldn't read the notes I dropped inside her desk. But Arturo Fink kept reminding her who she was. “Fiancée,” he said. “Jack’s fiancée.”
I promised myself I wouldn't write anymore compositions, but how could I graduate from Dr. Franklin's class and join General MacArthur?
It felt lonely without a fiancée.
Mauricette began seeing Barnaby Rosenstock after school. They were holding hands and having chocolate malteds at the Sugar Bowl on Seventy-ninth Street. Fat Arturo was eating two ice-cream sodas. The Sugar Bowl is our hangout. It’s the official candy store of Dutch Masters Day School. I didn’t have money for ice-cream sodas. I didn’t have money for malteds. I'd buy a Hershey bar or some Chuckles once a week. I'd peek at the comic book rack and wonder what was happening to Captain Marvel or the Sub-Mariner. Marvel and the Sub-Mariner were already at war, fighting Japs. And when Mauricette was still my fiancée, I'd sit with her over a glass of water and treat her to some candy whenever I could. But now she was sucking malteds with Barnaby Rosenstock. I could hear her from my corner, next to the comic book rack.
“Oh, Jack Dalton,” she said. “He has a wild imagination. He likes to fling words around. He thinks half the school is going to marry him.”
She didn’t have to shame me in front of her friends. Arturo was laughing into his fat cheeks. Barnaby had a chocolate rainbow on his lips. I didn’t even bother with the comic books. Marvel would have to fight the Japs without me. I walked home.
Mama was at the factory. She makes parachutes. Sometimes she’d bring home a little piece of silk left over from one of the chutes. That's how I get my handkerchiefs. Not even Arturo with all his father’s money has a handkerchief of genuine silk. But handkerchiefs couldn’t make me feel good. Silk is only silk. I wondered about the American fliers who had their planes shot down and had to fall into the dark wearing some of that silk.
I couldn’t concentrate on my homework. It didn't seem important when you considered all the Japs and Germans out there. I hope General MacArthur takes me with him to Bataan. I’m not asking for a Purple Heart. I'm only asking to kill Japs. And if I have to die, I want to die near my dad...
Mama came home at seven. The streets from my window looked so dark, I thought the world had gone gray. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t mind going to school after midnight.
“Darling,” Mama said, “what’s wrong?”
I couldn't tell her how I lost a fiancée, because she would have figured I was insane.
“Mama, I’m blue...that's all.”
“You’re still dreaming of the Army, aren’t you? We'll have dinner and listen to the radio, my little blue boy.”
We had soup and bread and boiled potatoes and peas out of a can. It’s not Mama’s fault if meat is rationed and sugar is rationed. No one can inherit ration stamps, not even the President or Arturo’s dad.
We listened to Jack Benny. He played the violin and talked about the Japs. Mama laughed, because Jack Benny is the biggest miser in the world. He would never spend a nickel. But he told everybody to buy war bonds.
“What about you, Mr. Benny?”
Mama told me it was time for bed.
I put on my pajamas. But I didn't feel like sleeping. I dialed Mauricette’s number and let the telephone ring. Somebody picked up the phone.
“It’s me,” I said. “Jack Dalton. Your former fiancé. Coco, are you there? I wanted to—”
Mauricette hung up. And I wondered who was lonelier. The dead cowboys on Bataan, or young Jack Dalton.
I promised myself I wouldn't write anymore compositions, but how could I graduate from Dr. Franklin's class and join General MacArthur?
It felt lonely without a fiancée.
Mauricette began seeing Barnaby Rosenstock after school. They were holding hands and having chocolate malteds at the Sugar Bowl on Seventy-ninth Street. Fat Arturo was eating two ice-cream sodas. The Sugar Bowl is our hangout. It’s the official candy store of Dutch Masters Day School. I didn’t have money for ice-cream sodas. I didn’t have money for malteds. I'd buy a Hershey bar or some Chuckles once a week. I'd peek at the comic book rack and wonder what was happening to Captain Marvel or the Sub-Mariner. Marvel and the Sub-Mariner were already at war, fighting Japs. And when Mauricette was still my fiancée, I'd sit with her over a glass of water and treat her to some candy whenever I could. But now she was sucking malteds with Barnaby Rosenstock. I could hear her from my corner, next to the comic book rack.
“Oh, Jack Dalton,” she said. “He has a wild imagination. He likes to fling words around. He thinks half the school is going to marry him.”
She didn’t have to shame me in front of her friends. Arturo was laughing into his fat cheeks. Barnaby had a chocolate rainbow on his lips. I didn’t even bother with the comic books. Marvel would have to fight the Japs without me. I walked home.
Mama was at the factory. She makes parachutes. Sometimes she’d bring home a little piece of silk left over from one of the chutes. That's how I get my handkerchiefs. Not even Arturo with all his father’s money has a handkerchief of genuine silk. But handkerchiefs couldn’t make me feel good. Silk is only silk. I wondered about the American fliers who had their planes shot down and had to fall into the dark wearing some of that silk.
I couldn’t concentrate on my homework. It didn't seem important when you considered all the Japs and Germans out there. I hope General MacArthur takes me with him to Bataan. I’m not asking for a Purple Heart. I'm only asking to kill Japs. And if I have to die, I want to die near my dad...
Mama came home at seven. The streets from my window looked so dark, I thought the world had gone gray. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t mind going to school after midnight.
“Darling,” Mama said, “what’s wrong?”
I couldn't tell her how I lost a fiancée, because she would have figured I was insane.
“Mama, I’m blue...that's all.”
“You’re still dreaming of the Army, aren’t you? We'll have dinner and listen to the radio, my little blue boy.”
We had soup and bread and boiled potatoes and peas out of a can. It’s not Mama’s fault if meat is rationed and sugar is rationed. No one can inherit ration stamps, not even the President or Arturo’s dad.
We listened to Jack Benny. He played the violin and talked about the Japs. Mama laughed, because Jack Benny is the biggest miser in the world. He would never spend a nickel. But he told everybody to buy war bonds.
“What about you, Mr. Benny?”
Mama told me it was time for bed.
I put on my pajamas. But I didn't feel like sleeping. I dialed Mauricette’s number and let the telephone ring. Somebody picked up the phone.
“It’s me,” I said. “Jack Dalton. Your former fiancé. Coco, are you there? I wanted to—”
Mauricette hung up. And I wondered who was lonelier. The dead cowboys on Bataan, or young Jack Dalton.
Jerome Charyn (born May 13, 1937) is an award-winning American author. With nearly 50 published works, Charyn has earned a long-standing reputation as an inventive and prolific chronicler of real and imagined American life. Michael Chabon calls him “one of the most important writers in American literature.”
New York Newsday hailed Charyn as “a contemporary American Balzac,” and the Los Angeles Times described him as “absolutely unique among American writers.”
Since 1964, he has published 30 novels, three memoirs, eight graphic novels, two books about film, short stories, plays and works of non-fiction. Two of his memoirs were named New York Times Book of the Year. Charyn has been a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction. He received the Rosenthal Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and has been named Commander of Arts and Letters by the French Minister of Culture.
New York Newsday hailed Charyn as “a contemporary American Balzac,” and the Los Angeles Times described him as “absolutely unique among American writers.”
Since 1964, he has published 30 novels, three memoirs, eight graphic novels, two books about film, short stories, plays and works of non-fiction. Two of his memoirs were named New York Times Book of the Year. Charyn has been a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction. He received the Rosenthal Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and has been named Commander of Arts and Letters by the French Minister of Culture.
Charyn lives in Paris and New York City.
Book Websites:
Back to Bataan Website | Back to Bataan Twitter Hastag: #BackToBataan |
Tribute Books Websites:
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Blog Tour: "Sykosa" by Justin Ordonez (Interview/Spotlight)
Q) Is there a message is your book
that you want readers to grasp?
A) Yes. I wrote Sykosa for many
reasons, but one of them was to draw attention to the nature of trauma and how
it changes a person. Specifically, I wanted to draw attention to the fact that
the nature of the event is not linked to the trauma experienced. In society,
myself included, we’re always applying a “test” for how bad something was for a
person, we want to know exactly what happened so we know if it’s okay for a
person to feel what they’re feeling. In Sykosa, I wanted to show the process of
trauma without showing its cause, I wanted people to view the process only. I
wanted people to see how a cause and affect attitude can lead to bias.
Q) What books have most influenced
your life most?
A) It seems like a book has to hit
me at the right time of life for it to really influence me. When Where the Sidewalk Ends found me in 1st
grade, it felt like the greatest thing that had ever happened. When Roald Dahl
found me in the 3rd or 4th grade, it was greeted by the
same result. When Garfield comics
found me in the 5th grade, I couldn’t stop laughing, I loved that
dude and his pranks on Odie. As I got older, it transitioned to more “serious”
stuff. When I was 15, an English teacher assigned Black Boy and it changed my life. I thought Valley of the Dolls was a great peek into the “secret” world of
women, where class, ambition, and lies drove the social landscape. It felt like
an atypical description of women at the time. There were many other books as
well!
Q) If you had to choose, which
writer would you consider a mentor?
A) That’s so hard. Believe it or
not, the two writers I get compared to most are Tom Robbins and James Joyce,
yet believe it or not, I only read three page of When Cowgirls Get the Blues before I quit, and I’ve never read
James Joyce. I’ve never sat down and specifically read an author, like the
entire bibliography, trying to figure out that writer’s methodology, I’m way
too lazy for that type of undertaking. I just sort of have a passion to write
and so I go forward doing so.
Q) Do you recall how your interest
in writing originated?
A) I liked books when I was young. I
was a poor reader, but I liked them for some reason. I thought they had power
and I saw an aura around them, even the bad ones. My mother read a lot of
fiction and my father read the newspaper every night, so I was also exposed to
adults who read daily, that probably influenced me.
Q) Did you learn anything from writing your novel and what was it?
A) I learned so much I often feel
overwhelmed by it. It wasn’t so much writing a book, it was growing up. I grew
up with Sykosa. If anyone ever gets
the chance to read the early drafts, you see that it’s not so much the
characters or the plot that’s maturing or getting more complicated or more
sophisticated, it’s me. You’re watching me grow up.
Q) What are your current projects?
A) I’m trying to get working on Part
II of Sykosa. It’s been hard. This marketing thing is exhausting and it requires
just as much energy as everyone swore it would! I need to find a way to
establish a bit more balance but I’m not sweating it right now. I think the
more you practice marketing, the more efficient you become at it, so I think I
just need to get some wear on my tires.
Q) What are your hobbies when you’re
not writing?
A) I like to play games on my iPhone
like Plants vs Zombies or Angry Birds. I read a lot of stuff on
the Internet, like remarkably boring stuff that nobody bothers to read, like
studies from universities and things. I like to exercise and it makes me feel
good about being alive. I don’t really have a lot of hobbies, I sort of think
about or am doing writing 24/7.
Q) What was the hardest part of
writing your book?
A) Keeping up the energy level. I
forced myself to write daily, without regard for what I was thinking or
feeling, for years and years without any exception. I did it if I was feeling
alive and great. I did it if I was slumping over and falling asleep. I was just
always doing it. It got to the point where I never considered if it was a good
idea or a bad idea, I just did it. In its own way, that was an extremely
difficult way to live.
Q) Do you have advice for other
writers?
A) Yeah, stick to it. Just write
until you’ve written the book you’ve always wanted to write. It’s a painful
process, but most things are painful, including being idle. I think if you want
to tell a story, it’s your responsibility to tell it. The illusion is that you
don’t matter or no one cares what you have to say, plenty of people care.
That’s why places like Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads exist, because we all care
so very much, and we all want to be part of each other’s lives.
Hey! Justin Ordoñez
wrote a book called Sykosa. It’s about a sixteen year old girl who’s trying to
reclaim her identity after an act of violence destroys her life and the lives
of her friends. You can find out more about Justin at his blog, http://sykosa.wordpress.com. You can
also find Sykosa, the novel on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007N709IG/
Sykosa
(Part 1: Junior Year)
Price: $12.95 paperback, $2.99 ebook
Pages: 320
ISBN: 9780985424312
Publisher: TDS Publishing
Release: March 2012
Pages: 320
ISBN: 9780985424312
Publisher: TDS Publishing
Release: March 2012
Sykosa Book Summary
Sykosa (that's "sy"-as-in-"my" ko-sa) is a sixteen-year-old girl trying to reclaim her identity after an act of violence shatters her life and the life of her friends. This process is complicated by her best friend, Niko, a hyper-ambitious, type-A personality who has started to war with other girls for social supremacy of their school, a prestigious preparatory academy in the Pacific Northwest of the United States. To compensate, Sykosa has decided to fall in love with her new boyfriend, Tom, who was involved in the act of violence. Propelled by survivor guilt, an anxiety disorder, and her hunger for Tom and his charms, Sykosa attends a weekend-long, unchaperoned party at Niko's posh vacation cottage, where she will finally confront Niko on their friendship, her indecision about her friends and their involvement in the act of violence, and she will make the biggest decision of her life — whether or not she wants to lose her virginity to Tom.
Justin's Ordonez's Bio:
Justin Ordoñez was born in Spain, raised in the mid-west, and currently lives in Seattle. He's nearly thirty years old, almost graduated from the University of Washington, and prefers to wait until TV shows come out on DVD so he can watch them in one-shot while playing iPad games. For fifteen years, he has written as a freelance writer, occasionally doing pieces as interesting as an editorial, but frequently helping to craft professional documents or assisting in the writing of recommendation letters for people who have great praise for friends or colleagues and struggle to phrase it. Sykosa is his debut novel.
Other Links:
Monday, August 6, 2012
Blog Tour: "Color of Snow" by Brenda Stanley
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Welcome to our Blog Tour stop on "The Color of Snow" by Brenda Stanley brought to you by Tribute Books Blog Tours. Here you can read the book synopsis, an excerpt from the book, and the author's bio.
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The Color of Snow
The Color of Snow Twitter hashtag: #TheColorOfSnow
eBook
ISBN: 9780983741893
ISBN: 9781476172309
Pages: 413
Release: June 1, 2012
ISBN: 9780983741893
ISBN: 9781476172309
Pages: 413
Release: June 1, 2012
Description:
Can a troubled young girl reenter society after living in isolation?
When a beautiful 16-year-old girl named Sophie is found sequestered in a cage-like room in a rundown house in the desolate hills of Arbon Valley, Idaho, the entire community is shocked to learn she is the legendary Callidora--a baby girl who was kidnapped from her crib almost seventeen years ago and canonized in missing posters with portraits of what the fabled girl might resemble. Authorities soon learn that the cage was there to protect people from Sophie, because her biological father believes she is cursed.
Sophie is discovered after the man she knows as Papa, shoots and injures Damien, a young man who is trying to rescue her. Now, unsocialized and thrust into the world, and into a family she has never met, Sophie must decide whether she should accept her Papa’s claims that she is cursed and he was only trying to protect others, or trust the new people in her life who have their own agendas. Guided by a wise cousin, Sophie realizes that her most heartbreaking challenge is to decide if her love for Damien will destroy him like her Papa claims, or free her from past demons that haunt her mind.
Can a troubled young girl reenter society after living in isolation?
When a beautiful 16-year-old girl named Sophie is found sequestered in a cage-like room in a rundown house in the desolate hills of Arbon Valley, Idaho, the entire community is shocked to learn she is the legendary Callidora--a baby girl who was kidnapped from her crib almost seventeen years ago and canonized in missing posters with portraits of what the fabled girl might resemble. Authorities soon learn that the cage was there to protect people from Sophie, because her biological father believes she is cursed.
Sophie is discovered after the man she knows as Papa, shoots and injures Damien, a young man who is trying to rescue her. Now, unsocialized and thrust into the world, and into a family she has never met, Sophie must decide whether she should accept her Papa’s claims that she is cursed and he was only trying to protect others, or trust the new people in her life who have their own agendas. Guided by a wise cousin, Sophie realizes that her most heartbreaking challenge is to decide if her love for Damien will destroy him like her Papa claims, or free her from past demons that haunt her mind.
Excerpt:
Malad, Idaho, early spring 2009
Spring had spread across the fields and pastures. Cottonwood trees fluttered their newly sprouted greenery, and purple asters covered the rolling hills. The snow had melted and Stephanie and I started taking the horses on rides up the valley. It was incredibly liberating to roam and wander without fear.
There was a trail leading from the foothills up into the forest, and once we were in the midst of the wild spruce and lofty pines, the noises of cars and life around the ranch disappeared. The sound of hooves on early spring dirt was solid and steady. The breeze was still crisp, but the sun reached down and warmed our shoulders. For almost an hour we rode in silence. We both were in awe of the day and the splendor that was ours alone to enjoy.
At the top of the hill, the trail opened up to a small plateau and a blue mountain lake. I gasped at the incredible beauty of it. I smiled at Stephanie and she nodded in acknowledgement. Her eyes were bright and her freckles seemed to glow in the sunshine. The horse she rode was a black mare my grandfather was going to sell. Stephanie loved the white diamond-shaped patch on her forehead, and scolded him for even thinking about selling Black Bean. My horse was an old buckskin gelding named Clyde. He lumbered along and rarely went faster than a slow trot, but for a beginner like me he was perfect.
Stephanie turned her horse down the hill and toward the lake. “Do you want to go swimming?” she called back.
“I don’t know how,” I answered.
She giggled as she reached the water’s edge. “You don’t need to. The horses do it all.” Her hair was pulled into two short pigtails and they bounced with each step of her horse.
I waited and watched as she urged Black Bean into the water and out into the lake. As the water got deeper, the splashes became larger around its legs as it pushed forward, and soon they were floating along smoothly.
“Come on!” she yelled, waving me in. She had her legs pulled up on the sides, trying to avoid getting completely soaked. They were pale and freckled like her face, and seemed to make up most of her body. Stephanie wasn’t much taller than I, but her legs and arms were long and made her look gangly and even thinner than she was. She waved so hard she almost fell off the horse, and started laughing as she steadied herself.
It looked like fun, but I was terrified. The water was immense and dark. The largest amount of water I had ever been in was my own bathtub. I wondered what would happen if I fell off in the middle. Stephanie and Black Bean were in the center of the lake and they looked like a serene harmonious duo.
I gave Clyde a slight nudge and he walked to the shoreline. The water lapped as I waited and watched Stephanie continue to beckon. She looked like she was having a marvelous time and wasn’t worried in the least. I patted Clyde and prodded him with the heels of my sneakers. He seemed unconcerned as he clopped loudly into the water. I took a deep breath and told myself to keep looking forward and it would be okay. Clyde had no hesitation, which helped ease my fear.
The sun beat down on us and made splashes of water light up as Clyde moved forward into the water. The splatters that hit my exposed skin were freezing and made me realize how cold it would be if I did fall in. I fixed my eyes on the opposite shoreline and put my faith in Clyde. The horse had a wide back, and as we got deeper into the lake, I curled my legs back the way Stephanie did and clung to his mane. We were riding bareback that day, because Stephanie didn’t want to spend time putting on saddles.
I held my breath as we got further away from the shore and closer to the very center of the lake. At one point I looked down, staring deep into the abyss. There was no bottom, and I felt my stomach turn, knowing I would surely die if I left Clyde’s back.
As the horse rhythmically propelled us along, I began to feel a sense of buoyancy and freedom. When we crossed the center point and were on our way to the other shore, my confidence turned to elation. I started to breathe again and smiled at what I had accomplished. I sat up straight, closed my eyes and imagined I was flying, gliding along on my winged unicorn, soaring through clouds and racing the wind. When I opened my eyes, I giggled at my foolish imagination, but couldn’t help beaming at what an amazing adventure it was.
When the horse’s hooves made contact with the lake bottom and we started to emerge from the water, I wanted to burst from relief and joy. “That was the most wonderful thing ever!”
Stephanie was sitting on a large tree limb that had fallen while her horse munched on fresh new grass beside her. “I didn’t think you’d do it. I’m proud of you.”
“It was so scary, but then it was so amazing.”
“I’m glad you liked it, because that’s how we’re getting back.”
We led the horses to a shaded area and tied them loosely to a tree so they could rest and graze. Stephanie leaned back against a tree and looked out at the incredible view of mountain-lined lake and clear blue sky.
“This is where I go when I can’t stand life anymore. The first time I came here, I tried to kill myself. I stole my dad’s gun and had it all planned out. Then I sat here and looked around at all this and thought...who would care? I’m nothing and no one would miss me, so why do it? That’s when I decided to live for me. I do what makes me happy now and screw the rest of them.”
“You were going to kill yourself. Why?”
Stephanie took a deep, labored sigh. “I didn’t see the point in living. My mom was dead and my dad married that crazy bitch.” She shrugged. “I don’t really fit in anywhere. Even at school, the kids hate me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. There is no reason to hate you.”
Stephanie scoffed. “You say that because you don’t know any better. You don’t know what normal is. That’s why we get along. I’m a freak, but you’ve never had any friends, so you don’t know how weird I am.” She smiled.
“I’ve had friends,” I protested.
“Really? I thought you were kept alone at that house all the time.”
I nodded.
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “So, did your dad kidnap kids and bring them home for you play with?”
My eyes went large, but then Stephanie laughed and I realized she was joking. I paused for a moment, trying to pick my words carefully.
“Don’t worry about me telling anyone. Remember, we’re best friends, so you should be able to tell me anything. I’ve never told anyone that I was going to kill myself.”
I looked at her with a mixture of love and concern. “I had two friends. I met them when I was eleven. Their mother worked with my father and they came to our house one day. That’s how they knew I lived there. They lived over the hill from us and they came over while Papa was at work and we played in my yard.” I stopped and smiled at the memory.
“You had to hide them from your father. Why?”
“He was afraid that if people knew I was home alone all day, they would come and take me away.”
“Didn’t it drive you crazy to be alone all the time?”
I shrugged. “Not really. When I met Donny and Damien I was much happier. I didn’t know what it was like to have friends before I met them, so I didn’t realize what I was missing.”
She studied me. “Isn’t Damien the kid your dad shot? Why’d he shoot him? Did he catch him with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him that you two were friends and that it was no big deal?"
“I tried to convince him, but...there is a lot you don’t understand.”
Stephanie gave me a disappointed curl of her lip. “And I won’t be able to understand if you keep everything a secret.”
I stayed silent.
“Sophie, I’ve already told you something that I never told anyone. I trust you because we’re friends. That is what friends do. They trust each other and they tell each other things. Do you think I won’t believe you?”
“No, it’s not that. And I do trust you, but there are things that will sound strange, and I don’t want you to think I’m a monster.”
She laughed. “You are the opposite of a monster. You’re friendly and kind. People would love to be near you.”
I ran the word through my head several times. I wondered if the statement had validity, because if it did, it explained some of the things Papa told me that seemed unimaginable.
“So, what is this big dark secret? You say your father didn’t kidnap you or treat you badly, so why did he keep you locked up in that house hidden away from the world?”
I thought it was inconceivable that the two of us were best friends. Stephanie had just confessed that she had almost ended her life and now I was about to tell her how I had ended my mother’s and one of my friends. My fears of being ostracized and treated like a disease were still at the surface, but the thought of releasing some of the weight with a person I trusted was like having a balloon inflating inside me ready to burst. I felt my secret was slowly killing me, and the only way I could get relief was to talk about it. I was still scared that once it was out, it would sprout wings and fly out of control.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone else.”
“I swear. I swear on my stepmother’s grave,” she giggled.
I looked at her, worried that she wasn’t in the right mind frame to hear what I had to say. My face must have showed it, because Stephanie quickly lost her smile and leaned forward. She put her hand on my shoulder. “God, Soph, I was just kidding. You look like I just cursed her dead.”
I gasped and put my hand to my mouth. I felt an icy chill go down my back and my heart jumped.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s what you said. That is why I had to hide all those years.”
“What I said? How could that be? I wasn’t even around.”
I was speechless and stunned. Just hearing the word made me dizzy. I put my face in my hands and rocked back and forth, trying to steady my nerves and my thoughts.
“Sophie, what’s wrong with you? You’re not making any sense. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I stopped rocking, and looked up at her. “I’m so afraid to say anything.”
“You have no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to tell anyone. You’re my only friend!” She smiled. “You’ll go crazy if you keep it all inside.”
“But what if you don’t want to be friends after I tell you?”
“That’s crazy.” She sat up on her knees and squared her body to mine. She held my shoulders and made me look at her. “Here, think about this. Imagine I’m the one telling you this big secret. If that were the case, would we still be friends? Sophie?”
I realized I had drifted off. I blinked as I came back and smiled. I had no reservations about how I would react if she were the one telling it. Stephanie would be my friend regardless of her secrets and I knew that she felt the same. So with the same strength I had mustered to lead my horse into a deep dark lake, I pushed forward and decided to reveal what had shaped my entire life. It would either knock me into a cold, deep abyss, or I would cross it and end up gaining the confidence I needed to take even more risks in my life. I was willing to take that chance. I suddenly realized that I had no idea where to start. It struck me as funny, and I stopped and smiled to myself.
“You’re a tease!” she yelled. “Come on, out with it.”
“I don’t know where to start. There is so much to tell.”
She leaned back against the tree and put her arms behind her head. “We have all day. They don’t expect us until dinner and I brought food in my backpack. Spill it!”
I took a deep breath. “There is something terrible that happened a long time ago and it’s the reason Papa and I had to hide all those years.”
“Did he kill someone?” she asked, both horrified and intrigued.
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s not something we did, but something that was done to us.”
Stephanie lowered an eyebrow. “What?”
“A curse.”
Her eyes shot wide open, but she gave me a sideways grin. “A curse?”
“Yes. We had to hide away because Papa says we are a threat to the people who love us.”
She cocked her head to the side. “How?”
I looked at the ground and felt my face flush. “I’m not sure, but some of them have died.”
Stephanie reeled back. “They died? How?”
I shrugged. “Papa says it’s the reason my mother died and Donny. He says we’re the reason.”
Stephanie shook her head. “You said he didn’t kill anyone.”
“It’s not us. It’s the curse that kills them.”
“How did they die?”
“Donny died when a dirt cave collapsed on him.” I felt a heavy lump in my stomach. “I don’t know how my mother died. Papa never talks about it.”
“Sounds to me like your father gave you a line to keep you in line. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I felt rejected and embarrassed. It had taken every ounce of trust I could muster to tell her and now she brushed it off. “Yes there is.”
She furrowed her brows. “Did you push that kid into the cave?”
I shook my head. “No!”
Stephanie sat up straight. “Do you think that other kid was shot because of this curse, too?”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes.”
She sat in silence, looking as if she was deep in thought. Several times she began to talk and then stopped. She stood up and walked in a circle. “That doesn’t make sense. If you say the curse kills people who love you, then why am I still alive? And what about your grandparents? Why aren’t we all dead?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes it scares me. I don’t want to hurt people, but I don’t want to be alone. Papa was trying to explain it, but then we got caught. I’ve tried to figure it out, but without Papa, I can’t. There’s more to it, and he’s the only one who knows.”
“Who put the curse on you?” I shrugged.
“Papa said it was done a long time ago, before I was born.”
Stephanie lowered her brow. “If you weren’t even born, why would anyone want to curse you?”
“It was placed on our family for something Papa did. He said it was done out of anger. He said he didn’t believe it at first, but when my mother was killed, he knew we had to hide or more bad things would happen. He said if anyone found out about the curse, I would be taken away. He hid us away for our own good. He didn’t want the curse to hurt anyone else. I didn’t know about it until after Donny died. Papa felt it was his fault for not warning me sooner.”
Stephanie looked at me in awe. She hadn’t moved a muscle or changed her facial expression in the slightest, as though my story had struck her dumb. I started feeling awkward and worried that I had said too much, but before regret set in, she took a seat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “So, what are you going to do? If you think you’re cursed and you’re putting other people at risk, how are you going to live?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“That’s crazy, Sophie. There is no such thing. I think he told you that just to keep you from running off. He knew that if people saw you they’d find out who you were. That would threaten him.” She scratched her head; pulling at the hair in one of her pigtails, making it crooked. “He makes it sound very convincing.” She sat back with a start. “He must have seen the newspaper article that ran the sketch. That’s why he took all the mirrors out of your house. He didn’t want you to discover who you really are. On the other hand, this is so strange, because if he really thought you were cursed, a lot of this stuff he did makes sense. That’s totally wild.”
I thought about the mirrors. I remembered the expression on Damien’s face when he realized all the mirrors in my house had been taken down or destroyed. I still had aversions to them, and rarely gave in to the temptation. They were everywhere at my grandparents’ home, but I did my best to avoid them, knowing that God watched and judged what I did.
“When I tell you that I love you, does it scare you?” she asked.
I contemplated her question, knowing I had thought about it many times before. “It used to, but for some reason I’m not worried anymore.”
“I think I know why.”
“Tell me.”
“Sophie, I don’t believe in curses or superstitions. I think the more you’re out in the normal world, you’ll realize all the stuff you’ve been told is not real. There is no such thing. All this stuff you father told you isn’t the truth. You’re not cursed.”
What she said completely deflated me. I had trusted her with my deepest, darkest realities and now she said that what I harbored and lived with my entire life was just a lie.
“You’ll never be happy if you live in fear like this. You’ll have an awful life if you never let anyone love you. I think it’s terrible what he did. He’s the one that’s cursed you with stupid superstitions. It’s not real. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I was shocked at what she said and felt the need to scoot away, fearing God would strike her down with a bolt of lightning. “You don’t believe in God?”
“No. And I don’t believe that how I live my life will determine how I spend my death. I believe that you do the right things for this life, not for some afterlife. Everyone around here is so worried about what’s going to happen to them when they die. It’s stupid. When my mom died, people actually told me that God needed her in heaven and that’s why he took her home.” She gave a disgusted smirk. “Why would God take someone’s mother away? My mom died because cancer cells overtook her body. It had nothing to do with God, and it had nothing to do with curses or prayers or any other hocus-pocus that everyone tries to fill your head with.”
I was still uneasy.
“You were worried about telling me your secret because you thought I would be afraid of you. And it turns out, you should be afraid of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a bad influence. That’s why I’m not allowed at the school. I asked questions and talked about things that made everyone nervous. The other kids told their parents that I didn’t believe in God and that I attacked their precious religion. That’s the reason I no longer go to school.” She smiled and pulled me close. “I’m worse than you. You may lure them in with your beauty and then kill them off, but I threaten their beliefs and their chances at eternal life. We make quite a pair.”
Being close to her was a comfort, even though I was still concerned about what she said. I cared about her and felt her statements against God would come back to haunt her.
“I know you aren’t just going to believe everything I say. It’s all been drilled into your head for so long, it will be hard to change what you believe, but I want to show you something that will hopefully help you get over all this. We’re going to do an experiment so I can prove that there is no such thing as a curse.”
I didn’t like the idea and was apprehensive.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said, with a defiant lift of her eyebrow. “You are my best friend, my only friend in this world. I love you as if you were my sister. Nothing fatal has happened to me yet and nothing will. I’ll prove to you that you are not cursed.”
I felt funny having her tempt fate for me.
“I was planning on killing myself anyway, so this isn’t a big sacrifice. Quit looking like that,” she chided. Stephanie put her finger to her mouth and feigned deep deliberation. “Hmm. If you have the power to kill people, then let’s work on how we can use it to bump off my stepmother!” She fell back against the soft forest floor in wicked laughter.
“Stephanie!”
She giggled with delight.
I couldn’t help but smile, even though she had made me out as toxic. She had heard what had kept me hidden and silent for years and was still my best friend. She had accepted what I said. She made light of it in a way that made me feel like nothing I told her would scare her away. Stephanie was intriguing and confusing, but I had no reservations that she was loyal and trustworthy. I had given her the secret of what I feared and what had formed my life. She had the power to destroy my world by exposing my enigma, yet I felt assured she would guard it, regardless of her own doubts about its truth.
She stopped laughing and leaned over to her backpack. She pulled out a bag of chips and a bottle of soda, and offered them to me. I took a handful of chips and we sat in silence for a while as we passed the bottle back and forth. “I think you saved me.”
I looked at her strangely, smiled, and shook my head.
She smiled back. “You did. Now the hard part is going to be saving you.”
Spring had spread across the fields and pastures. Cottonwood trees fluttered their newly sprouted greenery, and purple asters covered the rolling hills. The snow had melted and Stephanie and I started taking the horses on rides up the valley. It was incredibly liberating to roam and wander without fear.
There was a trail leading from the foothills up into the forest, and once we were in the midst of the wild spruce and lofty pines, the noises of cars and life around the ranch disappeared. The sound of hooves on early spring dirt was solid and steady. The breeze was still crisp, but the sun reached down and warmed our shoulders. For almost an hour we rode in silence. We both were in awe of the day and the splendor that was ours alone to enjoy.
At the top of the hill, the trail opened up to a small plateau and a blue mountain lake. I gasped at the incredible beauty of it. I smiled at Stephanie and she nodded in acknowledgement. Her eyes were bright and her freckles seemed to glow in the sunshine. The horse she rode was a black mare my grandfather was going to sell. Stephanie loved the white diamond-shaped patch on her forehead, and scolded him for even thinking about selling Black Bean. My horse was an old buckskin gelding named Clyde. He lumbered along and rarely went faster than a slow trot, but for a beginner like me he was perfect.
Stephanie turned her horse down the hill and toward the lake. “Do you want to go swimming?” she called back.
“I don’t know how,” I answered.
She giggled as she reached the water’s edge. “You don’t need to. The horses do it all.” Her hair was pulled into two short pigtails and they bounced with each step of her horse.
I waited and watched as she urged Black Bean into the water and out into the lake. As the water got deeper, the splashes became larger around its legs as it pushed forward, and soon they were floating along smoothly.
“Come on!” she yelled, waving me in. She had her legs pulled up on the sides, trying to avoid getting completely soaked. They were pale and freckled like her face, and seemed to make up most of her body. Stephanie wasn’t much taller than I, but her legs and arms were long and made her look gangly and even thinner than she was. She waved so hard she almost fell off the horse, and started laughing as she steadied herself.
It looked like fun, but I was terrified. The water was immense and dark. The largest amount of water I had ever been in was my own bathtub. I wondered what would happen if I fell off in the middle. Stephanie and Black Bean were in the center of the lake and they looked like a serene harmonious duo.
I gave Clyde a slight nudge and he walked to the shoreline. The water lapped as I waited and watched Stephanie continue to beckon. She looked like she was having a marvelous time and wasn’t worried in the least. I patted Clyde and prodded him with the heels of my sneakers. He seemed unconcerned as he clopped loudly into the water. I took a deep breath and told myself to keep looking forward and it would be okay. Clyde had no hesitation, which helped ease my fear.
The sun beat down on us and made splashes of water light up as Clyde moved forward into the water. The splatters that hit my exposed skin were freezing and made me realize how cold it would be if I did fall in. I fixed my eyes on the opposite shoreline and put my faith in Clyde. The horse had a wide back, and as we got deeper into the lake, I curled my legs back the way Stephanie did and clung to his mane. We were riding bareback that day, because Stephanie didn’t want to spend time putting on saddles.
I held my breath as we got further away from the shore and closer to the very center of the lake. At one point I looked down, staring deep into the abyss. There was no bottom, and I felt my stomach turn, knowing I would surely die if I left Clyde’s back.
As the horse rhythmically propelled us along, I began to feel a sense of buoyancy and freedom. When we crossed the center point and were on our way to the other shore, my confidence turned to elation. I started to breathe again and smiled at what I had accomplished. I sat up straight, closed my eyes and imagined I was flying, gliding along on my winged unicorn, soaring through clouds and racing the wind. When I opened my eyes, I giggled at my foolish imagination, but couldn’t help beaming at what an amazing adventure it was.
When the horse’s hooves made contact with the lake bottom and we started to emerge from the water, I wanted to burst from relief and joy. “That was the most wonderful thing ever!”
Stephanie was sitting on a large tree limb that had fallen while her horse munched on fresh new grass beside her. “I didn’t think you’d do it. I’m proud of you.”
“It was so scary, but then it was so amazing.”
“I’m glad you liked it, because that’s how we’re getting back.”
We led the horses to a shaded area and tied them loosely to a tree so they could rest and graze. Stephanie leaned back against a tree and looked out at the incredible view of mountain-lined lake and clear blue sky.
“This is where I go when I can’t stand life anymore. The first time I came here, I tried to kill myself. I stole my dad’s gun and had it all planned out. Then I sat here and looked around at all this and thought...who would care? I’m nothing and no one would miss me, so why do it? That’s when I decided to live for me. I do what makes me happy now and screw the rest of them.”
“You were going to kill yourself. Why?”
Stephanie took a deep, labored sigh. “I didn’t see the point in living. My mom was dead and my dad married that crazy bitch.” She shrugged. “I don’t really fit in anywhere. Even at school, the kids hate me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. There is no reason to hate you.”
Stephanie scoffed. “You say that because you don’t know any better. You don’t know what normal is. That’s why we get along. I’m a freak, but you’ve never had any friends, so you don’t know how weird I am.” She smiled.
“I’ve had friends,” I protested.
“Really? I thought you were kept alone at that house all the time.”
I nodded.
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “So, did your dad kidnap kids and bring them home for you play with?”
My eyes went large, but then Stephanie laughed and I realized she was joking. I paused for a moment, trying to pick my words carefully.
“Don’t worry about me telling anyone. Remember, we’re best friends, so you should be able to tell me anything. I’ve never told anyone that I was going to kill myself.”
I looked at her with a mixture of love and concern. “I had two friends. I met them when I was eleven. Their mother worked with my father and they came to our house one day. That’s how they knew I lived there. They lived over the hill from us and they came over while Papa was at work and we played in my yard.” I stopped and smiled at the memory.
“You had to hide them from your father. Why?”
“He was afraid that if people knew I was home alone all day, they would come and take me away.”
“Didn’t it drive you crazy to be alone all the time?”
I shrugged. “Not really. When I met Donny and Damien I was much happier. I didn’t know what it was like to have friends before I met them, so I didn’t realize what I was missing.”
She studied me. “Isn’t Damien the kid your dad shot? Why’d he shoot him? Did he catch him with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him that you two were friends and that it was no big deal?"
“I tried to convince him, but...there is a lot you don’t understand.”
Stephanie gave me a disappointed curl of her lip. “And I won’t be able to understand if you keep everything a secret.”
I stayed silent.
“Sophie, I’ve already told you something that I never told anyone. I trust you because we’re friends. That is what friends do. They trust each other and they tell each other things. Do you think I won’t believe you?”
“No, it’s not that. And I do trust you, but there are things that will sound strange, and I don’t want you to think I’m a monster.”
She laughed. “You are the opposite of a monster. You’re friendly and kind. People would love to be near you.”
I ran the word through my head several times. I wondered if the statement had validity, because if it did, it explained some of the things Papa told me that seemed unimaginable.
“So, what is this big dark secret? You say your father didn’t kidnap you or treat you badly, so why did he keep you locked up in that house hidden away from the world?”
I thought it was inconceivable that the two of us were best friends. Stephanie had just confessed that she had almost ended her life and now I was about to tell her how I had ended my mother’s and one of my friends. My fears of being ostracized and treated like a disease were still at the surface, but the thought of releasing some of the weight with a person I trusted was like having a balloon inflating inside me ready to burst. I felt my secret was slowly killing me, and the only way I could get relief was to talk about it. I was still scared that once it was out, it would sprout wings and fly out of control.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone else.”
“I swear. I swear on my stepmother’s grave,” she giggled.
I looked at her, worried that she wasn’t in the right mind frame to hear what I had to say. My face must have showed it, because Stephanie quickly lost her smile and leaned forward. She put her hand on my shoulder. “God, Soph, I was just kidding. You look like I just cursed her dead.”
I gasped and put my hand to my mouth. I felt an icy chill go down my back and my heart jumped.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s what you said. That is why I had to hide all those years.”
“What I said? How could that be? I wasn’t even around.”
I was speechless and stunned. Just hearing the word made me dizzy. I put my face in my hands and rocked back and forth, trying to steady my nerves and my thoughts.
“Sophie, what’s wrong with you? You’re not making any sense. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I stopped rocking, and looked up at her. “I’m so afraid to say anything.”
“You have no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to tell anyone. You’re my only friend!” She smiled. “You’ll go crazy if you keep it all inside.”
“But what if you don’t want to be friends after I tell you?”
“That’s crazy.” She sat up on her knees and squared her body to mine. She held my shoulders and made me look at her. “Here, think about this. Imagine I’m the one telling you this big secret. If that were the case, would we still be friends? Sophie?”
I realized I had drifted off. I blinked as I came back and smiled. I had no reservations about how I would react if she were the one telling it. Stephanie would be my friend regardless of her secrets and I knew that she felt the same. So with the same strength I had mustered to lead my horse into a deep dark lake, I pushed forward and decided to reveal what had shaped my entire life. It would either knock me into a cold, deep abyss, or I would cross it and end up gaining the confidence I needed to take even more risks in my life. I was willing to take that chance. I suddenly realized that I had no idea where to start. It struck me as funny, and I stopped and smiled to myself.
“You’re a tease!” she yelled. “Come on, out with it.”
“I don’t know where to start. There is so much to tell.”
She leaned back against the tree and put her arms behind her head. “We have all day. They don’t expect us until dinner and I brought food in my backpack. Spill it!”
I took a deep breath. “There is something terrible that happened a long time ago and it’s the reason Papa and I had to hide all those years.”
“Did he kill someone?” she asked, both horrified and intrigued.
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s not something we did, but something that was done to us.”
Stephanie lowered an eyebrow. “What?”
“A curse.”
Her eyes shot wide open, but she gave me a sideways grin. “A curse?”
“Yes. We had to hide away because Papa says we are a threat to the people who love us.”
She cocked her head to the side. “How?”
I looked at the ground and felt my face flush. “I’m not sure, but some of them have died.”
Stephanie reeled back. “They died? How?”
I shrugged. “Papa says it’s the reason my mother died and Donny. He says we’re the reason.”
Stephanie shook her head. “You said he didn’t kill anyone.”
“It’s not us. It’s the curse that kills them.”
“How did they die?”
“Donny died when a dirt cave collapsed on him.” I felt a heavy lump in my stomach. “I don’t know how my mother died. Papa never talks about it.”
“Sounds to me like your father gave you a line to keep you in line. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I felt rejected and embarrassed. It had taken every ounce of trust I could muster to tell her and now she brushed it off. “Yes there is.”
She furrowed her brows. “Did you push that kid into the cave?”
I shook my head. “No!”
Stephanie sat up straight. “Do you think that other kid was shot because of this curse, too?”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes.”
She sat in silence, looking as if she was deep in thought. Several times she began to talk and then stopped. She stood up and walked in a circle. “That doesn’t make sense. If you say the curse kills people who love you, then why am I still alive? And what about your grandparents? Why aren’t we all dead?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes it scares me. I don’t want to hurt people, but I don’t want to be alone. Papa was trying to explain it, but then we got caught. I’ve tried to figure it out, but without Papa, I can’t. There’s more to it, and he’s the only one who knows.”
“Who put the curse on you?” I shrugged.
“Papa said it was done a long time ago, before I was born.”
Stephanie lowered her brow. “If you weren’t even born, why would anyone want to curse you?”
“It was placed on our family for something Papa did. He said it was done out of anger. He said he didn’t believe it at first, but when my mother was killed, he knew we had to hide or more bad things would happen. He said if anyone found out about the curse, I would be taken away. He hid us away for our own good. He didn’t want the curse to hurt anyone else. I didn’t know about it until after Donny died. Papa felt it was his fault for not warning me sooner.”
Stephanie looked at me in awe. She hadn’t moved a muscle or changed her facial expression in the slightest, as though my story had struck her dumb. I started feeling awkward and worried that I had said too much, but before regret set in, she took a seat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “So, what are you going to do? If you think you’re cursed and you’re putting other people at risk, how are you going to live?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“That’s crazy, Sophie. There is no such thing. I think he told you that just to keep you from running off. He knew that if people saw you they’d find out who you were. That would threaten him.” She scratched her head; pulling at the hair in one of her pigtails, making it crooked. “He makes it sound very convincing.” She sat back with a start. “He must have seen the newspaper article that ran the sketch. That’s why he took all the mirrors out of your house. He didn’t want you to discover who you really are. On the other hand, this is so strange, because if he really thought you were cursed, a lot of this stuff he did makes sense. That’s totally wild.”
I thought about the mirrors. I remembered the expression on Damien’s face when he realized all the mirrors in my house had been taken down or destroyed. I still had aversions to them, and rarely gave in to the temptation. They were everywhere at my grandparents’ home, but I did my best to avoid them, knowing that God watched and judged what I did.
“When I tell you that I love you, does it scare you?” she asked.
I contemplated her question, knowing I had thought about it many times before. “It used to, but for some reason I’m not worried anymore.”
“I think I know why.”
“Tell me.”
“Sophie, I don’t believe in curses or superstitions. I think the more you’re out in the normal world, you’ll realize all the stuff you’ve been told is not real. There is no such thing. All this stuff you father told you isn’t the truth. You’re not cursed.”
What she said completely deflated me. I had trusted her with my deepest, darkest realities and now she said that what I harbored and lived with my entire life was just a lie.
“You’ll never be happy if you live in fear like this. You’ll have an awful life if you never let anyone love you. I think it’s terrible what he did. He’s the one that’s cursed you with stupid superstitions. It’s not real. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I was shocked at what she said and felt the need to scoot away, fearing God would strike her down with a bolt of lightning. “You don’t believe in God?”
“No. And I don’t believe that how I live my life will determine how I spend my death. I believe that you do the right things for this life, not for some afterlife. Everyone around here is so worried about what’s going to happen to them when they die. It’s stupid. When my mom died, people actually told me that God needed her in heaven and that’s why he took her home.” She gave a disgusted smirk. “Why would God take someone’s mother away? My mom died because cancer cells overtook her body. It had nothing to do with God, and it had nothing to do with curses or prayers or any other hocus-pocus that everyone tries to fill your head with.”
I was still uneasy.
“You were worried about telling me your secret because you thought I would be afraid of you. And it turns out, you should be afraid of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a bad influence. That’s why I’m not allowed at the school. I asked questions and talked about things that made everyone nervous. The other kids told their parents that I didn’t believe in God and that I attacked their precious religion. That’s the reason I no longer go to school.” She smiled and pulled me close. “I’m worse than you. You may lure them in with your beauty and then kill them off, but I threaten their beliefs and their chances at eternal life. We make quite a pair.”
Being close to her was a comfort, even though I was still concerned about what she said. I cared about her and felt her statements against God would come back to haunt her.
“I know you aren’t just going to believe everything I say. It’s all been drilled into your head for so long, it will be hard to change what you believe, but I want to show you something that will hopefully help you get over all this. We’re going to do an experiment so I can prove that there is no such thing as a curse.”
I didn’t like the idea and was apprehensive.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said, with a defiant lift of her eyebrow. “You are my best friend, my only friend in this world. I love you as if you were my sister. Nothing fatal has happened to me yet and nothing will. I’ll prove to you that you are not cursed.”
I felt funny having her tempt fate for me.
“I was planning on killing myself anyway, so this isn’t a big sacrifice. Quit looking like that,” she chided. Stephanie put her finger to her mouth and feigned deep deliberation. “Hmm. If you have the power to kill people, then let’s work on how we can use it to bump off my stepmother!” She fell back against the soft forest floor in wicked laughter.
“Stephanie!”
She giggled with delight.
I couldn’t help but smile, even though she had made me out as toxic. She had heard what had kept me hidden and silent for years and was still my best friend. She had accepted what I said. She made light of it in a way that made me feel like nothing I told her would scare her away. Stephanie was intriguing and confusing, but I had no reservations that she was loyal and trustworthy. I had given her the secret of what I feared and what had formed my life. She had the power to destroy my world by exposing my enigma, yet I felt assured she would guard it, regardless of her own doubts about its truth.
She stopped laughing and leaned over to her backpack. She pulled out a bag of chips and a bottle of soda, and offered them to me. I took a handful of chips and we sat in silence for a while as we passed the bottle back and forth. “I think you saved me.”
I looked at her strangely, smiled, and shook my head.
She smiled back. “You did. Now the hard part is going to be saving you.”
Brenda Stanley is the former news
anchor at her NBC affiliate KPVI in Eastern Iadho. Her writing
has been recognized by the Scripps Howard Foundation, the Hearst
Journalism Awards, the Idaho Press Club and the Society for
Professional Journalists. She is a graduate of Dixie College in
St. George, Utah, and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City.
Brenda lived for two years in Ballard, Utah, within the Fort
Duchesne reservation where the novel is set. She and her husband
live on a small ranch near the Snake River with their horses and
dogs.
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