Elizabeth Goodweather and her husband built a rewarding life in the hills and hollows of their adopted Appalachian home. But now Elizabeth is alone, her husband tragically killed, her children grown, the land around her filled with customs and beliefs she cannot share. It’s still a good life–tend...
Phillip’s call the night before (she had carried the phone with her around the house, as eager as a teenager for its ring) had been long and chatty. His parting words, “Sleep well, Elizabeth,” had come true and she had awakened smiling, ready for what the day might bring. She spent the morning ma...
Robinson? Mr. Hawkins? Thursday, May 17 There’s no sign of any Hummer; I think it would be safe for you to sit up now.” Phillip glanced across at his passenger, slouched low in her seat. A bright green scarf covered her hair and big goggle-like dark glasses hid her eyes. Damned if she doesn’t loo...
IF YOU FIND YOURSELF IN A SITUATION… Wednesday night, October 26 As he rounded the last curve and came in sight of the driveway to Full Circle Farm, Phillip saw a pair of taillights disappearing up the road toward the workshop. With squealing tires and a spray of gravel, he swung his car into the...
Look at these nice flowers Lavinia has brought you. Lavinia has brought you. Nice flowers Lavinia has…and how could one know which of the echoes was the first utterance and which were merely the repetitions, the bounced shadow-sounds? And if you repeated yourself, as they said that you did, did y...
I don’t like snakes—never have, never will. What am I doing, going to where people pick them up and wave them around? Nasty, slimy snakes. Nasty, slimy, poisonous snakes. In church, of all places. And Birdie setting there just as calm … Dorothy’s Ford swung through a dizzying series of switchback...