After writing a series of
memoirs (“The Third Floor,” “Dreamscape In A Minor,” and “Rita’s Road”) Chicoan
Judi Loren Grace takes a novelistic turn in “Meadowlark” ($16.95 in paperback
from Stansbury Publishing; also for Amazon Kindle).
It’s a compelling family
saga spanning decades, told mostly by a woman who seemed to have the ideal
marriage. Her husband Jim, “my security and friend,” is successful in the stock
market; the couple, restless, “relocate to a small town called Dunsmuir and
semi-retire.” Their daughter, Dana Bea, is headed to college.
In Dunsmuir, “my boring
life magnifies and morphs into a lovely locked cage,” even as she reminds
herself to “stay in the shadows … always glide through life unnoticed and
detached. It’s the safest route.”
Tragedy strikes. Jim dies
in her arms of a heart attack. Dana Bea is a frequent visitor and early in
1984, life for mother and daughter will take another unforeseen turn. A toddler
is being abused in a neighboring house.
Later, when Dana Bea has
left, her mother encounters the angry father searching for his child. Then she
finds the toddler, a two-year-old, lying in the snow. She shelters the little
girl and so begins a life of paranoia, a fear of being arrested at any moment
for kidnaping a child. The girl is given the name Jessica, and Jessica later
calls her savior “Nettie” (for being a safety net).
Dana Bea secures a fake
birth certificate and the two make plans to move with Jessica to the coast and
start afresh. There Nettie meets Sam, a former Texas Ranger, who helps shield
Jessica from prying eyes. But is he just a plant? “With a pounding heart, I try
to keep my fear in check. Worrying this is a trap.” Paranoia grows.
“We were not longing for
adventure. Dana Bea and I closed our eyes and dove in head first, and in doing
so we both did a full swan dive into a life of crime.”
Yet “Jessica is worth
saving and protecting, and I will go to the ends of the earth to keep her
parents from getting her back.”
The meadowlark sings,
unseen, a peaceful song. But will peace ever come?
No comments:
Post a Comment