Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Shoes tell the Story of Our Lives

This week, July 15- 22, Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas has put Breathing on Her Own in the Kindle Countdown program. During this time you and your friends can download the book to your Kindle for only $.99. Don’t have a Kindle? There’s an app for that…a free one from Amazon. It will turn your computer or android into a Kindle reader. And once read, don't forget to post a review. Thanks--Rebecca

From the back cover
Molly Tipton and her husband are looking forward to retirement but Molly's life suddenly spirals out of control when her oldest daughter is involved in a terrible accident. An icy road and a sharp turn leave one woman dead, another clinging to life.
While two families grieve, details emerge that reveal Molly’s daughter was driving under the influence. As she prepares her daughter for the prospect of a vehicular homicide lawsuit, Molly discovers her oldest child is not the only one injured and under attack for past mistakes. If it is true time heals all wounds, what are we to do with our scars?

Photo by Kendall Nash
“Shoes Tell the Story of Our Lives”
an excerpt from

Molly turned her attention to the floor of the upstairs clothes closet. Only the shoes were left. Molly sat down and picked up a pair of Laney’s high-heeled shoes and hugged them to her chest. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She pulled her mouth tight. A picture of Laney clomping around in Molly’s high heels when she was a toddler came unbidden to her mind. The blue heels she and Laney had dyed to match her prom dress tugged at her memory. The white satin heels Laney chose for her wedding. Shoes tell the story of our lives.
Ellie came running into the now empty bedroom screaming. “Hunter hit me!” Hunter was fast behind her. “She hit me first!”
Molly closed her eyes for a moment.
             “No hitting, “ she instructed her grandchildren. “I don’t even want to know what happened. Just no hitting.” She pushed herself up from the bedroom floor. Both children started talking at the same time.
Molly turned. “Stop it!” She bent down to within inches of their startled faces and spoke through clenched teeth, her voice even and firm. “I do not want to know what happened. I only want you to stop yelling at each other and remember this one rule: No hitting.” With that she turned and headed down the stairs, leaving a startled Hunter and Ellie standing in the middle of the empty room.
            Downstairs, Molly went into the bathroom and closed the door.  She shook. Never before had she been that close to losing her temper with Hunter and Ellie. Would they hate her for it? Hands on the sink’s edge, Molly leaned heavily on the new granite surface.
A pang of self-pity knifed her heart. Hadn’t she already raised her own children? Slowly raising her head, Molly studied her image in the mirror. What was it she had been thinking about before the children started fighting?
It was the shoes. Shoes tell the story of our lives. Images of Laney’s first steps in the high top stiff white shoes of a toddler flashed before her. Laney’s first ballet slippers. There were new school shoes each September, white patent leathers every year for Easter, and black patent leathers near Christmas.
Molly wiped her face.
It was the shoes triggering her anger, not the children. The shoes were a reminder of all Laney had been and had become. The shoes she would never wear again to a dance or to take a run in the park. The shoes were to blame.

Breathing on Her Own, a novel

No comments:

Post a Comment

Leave your comments here. I look forward to hearing from you.