crydun
02-28-2007, 05:00 PM
Here is an excerpt from my novel. Enjoy and feedback is welcome.
“Tell me about your father, Ginger. You never speak of him.” Deborah’s eyes pleaded for a normal conversation.
Ginger told her then. About Thomas Davis, the war hero who came home from Korea with a purple heart. Thomas Davis the husband, who devoted everything he had to Julia MacGregor, the young blonde beauty that he’d met on the campus of Boston College.
Deborah almost dropped her coffee cup. “You know Julia MacGregor?”
Ginger looked at her, surprised. “Yes. That’s my mother.”
Deborah dropped the hand that she’d held in mid-air. “Dear God,” she muttered, breathing slowly.
“You know my mother?” Ginger’s voice was high-pitched and sharp.
“Yes. She was my college roommate.” Deborah’s voice came from far away. “We had a blast together. Jules had big dreams and bigger ideas. She was the life of the party back then. When you hung out with Jules, you knew you were going to laugh.” Deborah looked at Ginger. “You don’t look anything like her. You don’t have her personality either.” Her eyes prodded Ginger for an explanation.
Ginger’s reply took its time coming. “I used to be. Before Daddy died, I was a happy, upbeat person. Nothing ever got me down. But, a lot has happened since then.” Now, Ginger’s voice was far away.
“What happened to your mother? Why aren’t you with her? Did you run away?”
Ginger replied slowly, her voice choked with emotion. “No. I didn’t. She did.”
Deborah’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
Ginger relayed to Deborah her story. Coming home from school and finding the note her mother had left saying she couldn’t take it anymore. Spending two years at the Jenkins’ trying to fit in while Rodney ogled her and Marie looked away. Having drunken visits sporadically from her mother. Getting moved to Pennsylvania because Rodney Jenkins couldn’t control his raging hormones.
She told Deborah about life at the Marshall’s, her relationship with Susan. “I truly came to love that woman.” She told Deborah tearfully. “She became like a true mother to me.” Ginger talked about Daphne, their tickle fights in the bathroom and how much she missed Daphne. “She’s almost like the sister I never had.” She relayed to Deborah, whose eyes were glistening by now.
Deborah smiled from within a secret place, remembering all of the fun and laughter Ginger’s mother, Julia had brought her while they were roommates. Tickle fights every night, practically. Julia could dish it out and she could take it too. Deborah remembered one night in particular when they had been up until two in the morning, talking and laughing. There were six of them. One of them looked at the other and said “Let’s tickle Jules!” Before Julia could say uncle, she had five other girls surrounding her, ready to tickle the mess out of her. Julia had laughed, squealed and thrashed but it was all in vain. They continued well into the morning, taking turns. They stopped only when Julia’s entire body was pink and she was panting for breath. She looked at Ginger now and could see a glimpse, just a glimpse, of Julia MacGregor. Julia MacGregor, the tickle queen of Boston College. She looked across the table at her foster daughter. “Come sit next to me, Ginger.”
Ginger was taken aback, though not offended and moved to the chair next to Deborah.
Deborah recounted the story then. Before she was halfway through the story, Ginger was giggling hysterically. “Really? My mother was ticklish?” Ginger couldn’t picture that. Her mother was always so proper, after all.
Deborah feigned shock. “Oh God, yes. She was the favorite in the dorm.” She looked at Ginger now. “As I imagine you will be someday.” She smiled brightly at Ginger who blushed and smiled back.
“Tell me about your father, Ginger. You never speak of him.” Deborah’s eyes pleaded for a normal conversation.
Ginger told her then. About Thomas Davis, the war hero who came home from Korea with a purple heart. Thomas Davis the husband, who devoted everything he had to Julia MacGregor, the young blonde beauty that he’d met on the campus of Boston College.
Deborah almost dropped her coffee cup. “You know Julia MacGregor?”
Ginger looked at her, surprised. “Yes. That’s my mother.”
Deborah dropped the hand that she’d held in mid-air. “Dear God,” she muttered, breathing slowly.
“You know my mother?” Ginger’s voice was high-pitched and sharp.
“Yes. She was my college roommate.” Deborah’s voice came from far away. “We had a blast together. Jules had big dreams and bigger ideas. She was the life of the party back then. When you hung out with Jules, you knew you were going to laugh.” Deborah looked at Ginger. “You don’t look anything like her. You don’t have her personality either.” Her eyes prodded Ginger for an explanation.
Ginger’s reply took its time coming. “I used to be. Before Daddy died, I was a happy, upbeat person. Nothing ever got me down. But, a lot has happened since then.” Now, Ginger’s voice was far away.
“What happened to your mother? Why aren’t you with her? Did you run away?”
Ginger replied slowly, her voice choked with emotion. “No. I didn’t. She did.”
Deborah’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
Ginger relayed to Deborah her story. Coming home from school and finding the note her mother had left saying she couldn’t take it anymore. Spending two years at the Jenkins’ trying to fit in while Rodney ogled her and Marie looked away. Having drunken visits sporadically from her mother. Getting moved to Pennsylvania because Rodney Jenkins couldn’t control his raging hormones.
She told Deborah about life at the Marshall’s, her relationship with Susan. “I truly came to love that woman.” She told Deborah tearfully. “She became like a true mother to me.” Ginger talked about Daphne, their tickle fights in the bathroom and how much she missed Daphne. “She’s almost like the sister I never had.” She relayed to Deborah, whose eyes were glistening by now.
Deborah smiled from within a secret place, remembering all of the fun and laughter Ginger’s mother, Julia had brought her while they were roommates. Tickle fights every night, practically. Julia could dish it out and she could take it too. Deborah remembered one night in particular when they had been up until two in the morning, talking and laughing. There were six of them. One of them looked at the other and said “Let’s tickle Jules!” Before Julia could say uncle, she had five other girls surrounding her, ready to tickle the mess out of her. Julia had laughed, squealed and thrashed but it was all in vain. They continued well into the morning, taking turns. They stopped only when Julia’s entire body was pink and she was panting for breath. She looked at Ginger now and could see a glimpse, just a glimpse, of Julia MacGregor. Julia MacGregor, the tickle queen of Boston College. She looked across the table at her foster daughter. “Come sit next to me, Ginger.”
Ginger was taken aback, though not offended and moved to the chair next to Deborah.
Deborah recounted the story then. Before she was halfway through the story, Ginger was giggling hysterically. “Really? My mother was ticklish?” Ginger couldn’t picture that. Her mother was always so proper, after all.
Deborah feigned shock. “Oh God, yes. She was the favorite in the dorm.” She looked at Ginger now. “As I imagine you will be someday.” She smiled brightly at Ginger who blushed and smiled back.