Love, Theodosia is a smart, funny, swoony take on a fiercely intelligent woman (Aaron Burr’s daughter, Theodosia) with feminist ideas and ideals far ahead of her time. Not only a work of well-researched historical fiction, but a refreshing spin on the Hamiltonian era and the characters we have grown to know and love so well. Goldstein shines a bright light on Theodosia, who has long deserved center stage, a young woman struggling to be heard in a turbulent time for our nation. It’s also a heartbreaking romance of two star-crossed lovers, an achingly bittersweet “what if”.
In Love Theodosia, Alexander Hamilton’s son Philip and Burr’s daughter Theodosia become smitten, though she is engaged to an artist and Philip is a rakish cad. But the two find each other’s intellect irresistible, and in what unrolls like a Jane Austen novel of manners we find ourselves entangled with the Hamilton family once again as the children of famous enemies are driven together despite every reason not to be.
Review
Theodosia is the daughter of Aaron Burr. And this comes with some baggage. Her mother has passed away and Theodosia must stand in her place beside her father during all his political ambitions. This puts a huge strain on her life. But, when she falls in love with her dad’s arch enemy’s son, Philip, it changes all of her thoughts and perceptions.
Theodosia is a strong female character back when females were considered simpering idiots. However, she fought against the norm the best way she knew how. She wrote articles under a pen name to help women. So, to say I loved her…that is putting it mildly. I found her fascinating and very intelligent.
This is my least favorite time period, early America. But, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I loved learning about how politics worked back then (not much has changed!) I also enjoyed reading about the daily life of Theodosia and what kind of pawn she became. I fluctuated between 4 and 5 stars. The only reason I settled on 4 was because it was a bit long and parts were a little overly dramatic. Now, this could be attributed to the narrator. But, I didn’t get that as an overall feeling from the book.
I did enjoy the narrator, Allyson Voller. She was excellent with all the male voices, tough to do!
Need a very good historical novel…THIS IS IT! Grab your copy today.
I received this audiobook from the publisher for a honest review.
So, when the residents of the town’s most exclusive subdivision discover one of their own is missing, it sends a wave of panic and discord throughout the neighborhood.
They are supposed to be safe.
But they quickly realize not everything is as it once seemed in their idyllic world.
Slowly, the cracks have begun to show, revealing the dark and devious truth behind their home, their neighbors, and the lengths some people will go to protect their secrets.
Someone’s missing.
Someone’s dead.
Everyone’s lying.
In a town full of masterfully woven webs, these six friends are about to watch their world unravel. And, if they’re not careful, one of them might be the next to disappear….
When everyone you know is a liar, how do you decide whom to trust?
Review
Someone…or everyone is lying in Cason Glen. Stephanie’s husband is missing. But, she knows something is just not right. She makes a false report about a car going into the town lake hoping the authorities will drag the lake and possibly put an end to her nightmare. When the law comes to question her, she reneges on her statement. But, her husband is still missing!
There are so many secrets in this novel. You just don’t know who to believe. Honestly, everyone seems to be everyone’s friend and they are all one big, happy town. Well! They are not! Everyone is lying to everyone.
This is a twisted story and the ending is completely worth it. However, this novel fell short for me. I just did not like any of the characters, especially the teenage boys. But, it is fast paced and the narrators, Mandy Kaplan, Wyatt Baker, did a very good job!
Need a good mystery with a big twist…THIS IS IT! Grab your copy today.
I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.
This Christmas, be whisked away by USA Today bestselling author Sarah Morgan in this uplifting novel of friendship, the festive season, and risking everything for the biggest gift of all…
Christy and Alix are forever-friends. Not even Alix’s well-meant but badly-timed intervention the night before Christy’s wedding has put a dent in their bond. There’s nothing Alix won’t do for the woman who helped fill the hole in her heart left by her own family’s rejection. But taking Christy’s boisterous little daughter Holly on holiday to Lapland, days before Christmas, is a huge ask. Marketing whizz Alix might know how to turn toys into million-dollar Christmas bestsellers, but the responsibility of parenthood terrifies her. And unfortunately, she’ll have a witness to her ineptitude, in the annoyingly delicious shape of Zac, Holly’s father’s best friend, who will also be there…
Christy had hoped this year would be her dream Christmas, in her dream new family house. Instead, it’s turning into the nightmare before Christmas, with a frightening list of household repairs, no money, and a make-or-break crisis in her marriage. Even worse, it’s a crisis of her own making, and one that is on her shoulders to fix. With best friend Alix coming to the rescue and looking after Holly, Christy will finally have time to focus on rebuilding her relationship.
As Alix confronts her fears and finds unexpected romance under the Northern Lights, and Christy fights to save her marriage, could it be that their Christmas holiday opens their eyes, and their hearts, to what they’ve always wanted?
Review
Christy’s only surviving relative is her aunt, Robyn. Christy has never met Robyn. But, Christy needs an escape. So she takes the bull by the horns and reaches out to Robyn. Life turns on a dime, and Christy sends her daughter ahead of her with her friend, Alix. What could go wrong? Need to read this and find out!
This novel follows three characters, Christy, Alix and Robyn. So, it was a bit confusing and it took a while to get all of it pulled together. However, when all the links finally came together it was wonderful, it just took too long to get there.
I did find Alix pretty dang funny. And the twists and turns made this story dramatic. Plus, the author did a great job keeping the Christmas spirit running throughout this tale!
This is not my favorite Sarah Morgan book. But I did like it ok…I may be a bit tired of Christmas reads at this point. So, read it and form your own opinion.
Need a sweet, fun, Christmas romance…THIS IS IT! Grab your copy today.
I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.
USA Today bestselling author Sarah Morgan writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction. Her trademark humour and warmth have gained her fans across the globe and three RITA® Awards from the Romance Writers of America. Sarah lives with her family near London, England, where the rain frequently keeps her trapped in her office.
A powerful exploration of what a woman can be when what she should be is no longer an option
In late 1970, Oliver Desmarais drops dead in his front yard while hanging Christmas lights. In the year that follows, his widow, Virginia, struggles to find her place on the campus of Clarendon College, the elite men’s college where Oliver was a professor. While Virginia had always shared her husband’s prejudices against the four outspoken, never-married women on the faculty—dubbed The Gang of Four by their male counterparts—she now finds herself depending on them, even joining their work to bring the women’s movement to Clarendon.
Meanwhile, Virginia’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Rebecca, is adrift in a world without her dad and hates the woman her mother is becoming. And junior Sam Waxman, reeling from the death of his favorite professor, falls in love with a magnetic activist bent on effecting change by any means necessary.
Soon, reports of violent protests across the country reach this sleepy New England town, stirring tensions between the fraternal establishment of Clarendon and those calling for change. As authorities attempt to tamp down “radical elements,” Virginia must decide whether she’s willing to put herself and her family at risk for a cause that had never felt like her own.
Told through alternating perspectives, The Wrong Kind of Woman is an engrossing story of grief and renewal, of shedding old identities and finding new ways to belong, beautifully woven against the backdrop of the rapid changes of the early Seventies.
About The Author:
When it comes to fiction writing (and reading), Sarah is obsessed with women’s lives and the drama of family life. She also loves the Seventies. She’s a graduate of Dartmouth College, Stanford University, and Vermont College of Fine Arts, and she’s the mom of three young-adult kids. Sarah lives, writes, and gardens on an old farm in New Hampshire. The Wrong Kind of Woman is her first novel. https://sarahmccrawcrow.com Social Media:
“In her entrancing debut, McCraw Crow traces the impact of second-wave feminism and the antiwar movement in the early 1970s on a New Hampshire college campus. . . . The choice to present the characters’ desperate actions in shades of gray makes for engrossing reading.” —Publishers Weekly “Readers will soar through the smoothly written prose and empathize with the strong characters. Suggest to those who loved Jennifer Weiner’s Mrs.Everything.” —Booklist
“A strong, strident message delivered in a valentine of a book that is easy to read and enjoy, but with enough gentle grit and determination to keep you thinking about Virginia and the Gang of Four long after the last page is read.” —BookReporter “The Wrong Kind of Woman explores the sublimation of self within a marriage, sexism in the workplace and the pros and cons of activism versus revolution. These are heady topics, but this slow burn of a novel proves a perfect place to give them serious thought.” —BookPage
Beautifully written… Timely and pressing… McCraw Crow deftly navigates the campus and national politics of the ’70s. —Amy Meyerson, bestselling author of The Imperfects
“How could I not devour a book set in my favorite era? About family, marriage, love and grief and a country in the turbulent flux of change, The Wrong Kind of Woman limns the lives of a stunned widow, her daughter and a student as they all struggle to come to terms with death—and life—against the backdrop of the Vietnam war, Kent State, the drug culture, and the first heady rise of the women’s movement. Absolutely fabulous.” —Caroline Leavitt, New York Times bestselling author of Pictures of You and Cruel Beautiful World
If home is where the heart is, Dogwood County may have just what Delaney Monroe needs.
Newly retired from the Marine Corps, Delaney is looking for somewhere to start over. It’s not going to be easy, but when she finds the perfect place to open her dream motorcycle shop, she goes for it. What she doesn’t expect is an abandoned pit bull to come with the building. The shy pup is slow to trust, but Delaney is determined to win it over.
Detective Sean Callahan is smitten from the moment he sees Delaney, but her cool demeanor throws him off his game. When her late father’s vintage motorcycle is stolen from Delaney’s shop, Sean gets to turn up in his element: chasing the bad guy and showing his best self to a woman who’s gotten under his skin in a bad way.
Delaney isn’t used to lasting relationships, but letting love in – both human and canine – helps her see that she may have found a place she belongs, forever.
Review
Delaney has retired from the Marine Corps. She has decided to open up her own motorcycle shop. It has been her dream for quite a while. She found the perfect place to rent and she is ready to roll. However, an abandoned dog keeps showing up. Delaney is smitten! But, not long after she has opens her shop, her antique motorcycle is stolen. Enter detective Sean Callahan! Can Delaney let him in too?!?
Now, I am not a fan of motorcycles. So, I really didn’t think this would appeal to me. And there is a good bit of motorcycle talk. But, I found it fascinating, especially about the antique bikes. Something I didn’t know…I enjoy learning something new. Add in the chemistry between these characters and you have a good tale!
I discovered this author last year when I was asked to review Rescue You . I enjoyed that book so much, I could not wait to read this one. And this one did not disappoint. I love how she incorporates animals and the armed services into her stories. Always makes for really good, heartwarming reads!
Need a good book to curl up with…THIS IS IT! Grab your copy today!
I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.
Author Bio:
Elysia Whisler was raised in Texas, Italy, Alaska, Mississippi, Nebraska, Hawaii, and Virginia, in true military fashion. If she’s not writing she’s probably working out, coaching, or massaging at her CrossFit gym. She lives in Virginia with her family, including her large brood of cat and dog rescues, who vastly outnumber the humans.
Well, well, well, we are almost finished with 2021! Can you believe it! This year has flown by! But November moved even faster than I expected! I had an absolutely fantastic month! I went to the beach by myself! It was amazing. I have not done that in years and everyone needs to get away by themselves sometime.
My husband and I also went to see Dwight Yoakum (don’t judge!) at Graceland in Memphis. He has never been through the mansion (and he has lived within 100 miles of it his whole life!🤦🏻♀️) So, we toured Graceland and we even spent the night in the hotel there. It was a wonderful weekend get away!
Now…on to the
ESCAPES
What a wonderful reading month. Now, I am listening to more audible books than I am physically reading at the present time. Basically because I am semi-retired and I am wanting to do some crafty stuff. I have been knitting….I know, I know….but I am addicted!
So….now on to the wonderful books and audible books for November!
After notifying the bishop that a young girl possessed by an invisible demon must be exorcised immediately, Father Nathaniel Kerrigan is shocked when the bishop insists he perform the ritual. Panicked, Kerrigan calls on his old friend and trusted mentor, Monsignor Carmichael, to convince the bishop he should use another priest instead. But when Kerrigan claims he wants out because he has no experience with the preternatural, Carmichael fears there is much more at stake than Kerrigan’s letting on. As Carmichael drags Kerrigan on a dark and painful journey through a secluded nature preserve, it soon becomes clear the real reason Kerrigan is so desperate to avoid the confrontation is that the demon inside the girl has a window into his hidden past.
Review
Father Nathaniel Kerrigan has been ordered to attend an exorcism of a very young girl. He has some major reservations. So, he asks to have a chat with his friend and mentor, Monsignor Carmichael. It is during this chat that the past comes to light and Kerrigan has some things hidden from all!
This book is creepy and a little weird….but so unique and fascinating. I was so caught up in the backstory. I wanted to know why Kerrigan was so hesitant. At first you think it is because it’s and exorcism. But, then you realize there is much more to this story!
There are so many twists and turns in this story you just can’t stop reading. And add in that ending….and oh boy!
Need a good, creepy read…THIS IS IT! Grab your copy today.
I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.
About The Author:
Frank Michael Oliva is a practicing attorney and law professor from Long Island, New York. As a teenager, he worked as a receptionist at the rectory of his local parish and developed a close relationship with one of the priests, a former English teacher. Their philosophical conversations about the nature of good and evil left a lasting impression on Frank and inspired him to write his first novel, Walking Among the Trees, nearly two decades later. When he isn’t busy working or writing, Frank can be found spending time with his wife and twin children, reading, or playing video games.
2019 Best Book Awards Finalist in Fiction (Multicultural)
BookRelease Date: November 12, 2019
About The Book:
Told alternately, by Colleen, an idealistic young white teacher; Frank, a black high school football player; and Evelyn, an experienced black teacher, Freedom Lessons is the story of how the lives of these three very different people intersect in a rural Louisiana town in 1969.
Colleen enters into the culture of the rural Louisiana town with little knowledge of the customs and practices. She is compelled to take sides after the school is integrated—an overnight event for which the town’s residents are unprepared, and which leads to confusion and anxiety in the community—and her values are tested as she seeks to understand her black colleagues, particularly Evelyn. Why doesn’t she want to integrate the public schools? Frank, meanwhile, is determined to protect his mother and siblings after his father’s suspicious death—which means keeping a secret from everyone around him.
Based on the author’s experience teaching in Louisiana in the late sixties, this heartfelt, unflinching novel about the unexpected effects of school integration during that time takes on the issues our nation currently faces regarding race, unity, and identity.
Review
Colleen is a white teacher which has moved into Louisiana. She is teaching at the “black” school. Colleen has a room full of good students but not a lot of good supplies or equipment. But, she learns how to make things work. However, one day everything changes. The school board is closing her school as of today. Everyone is being incorporated into the “white”school. This changes the lives of so many children. And their safety is no longer guaranteed.
Growing up in the Deep South, I can see all of this happening. So much of this was very ingrained into the culture. This book nailed so many things and brought to the forefront exactly what transpired and the wrongness of the situation. I felt so upset for the children. The unfairness tore me up!
It’s amazing how life has changed…and how it has stayed the same. The people who went before us really made their mark. This book highlights the horror some of the children and the teachers were put through for “so called” equality! I highly recommend this read just so people do not forget…it was not easy! And it is still a struggle every day!
Need a dang good read…this is it! Grab your copy today!
I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.
Eileen Harrison Sanchez is now retired after a forty-year career in education. She started as a teacher and ended as a district administrator. She has been writing part time for seven years with a writers group in Summit, NJ (www.writerscircleworkshops.com). Eileen is a member of the Historical Writers of America, Historical Novel Society, Philadelphia Stories Writers Community, Goodreads American Historical Novels Group, and several online writers groups on LinkedIn and Facebook. A reader, a writer, and a perennial—a person with a no-age mindset—she considers family and friends to be the most important parts of her life, followed by traveling and bird watching from her gazebo. Learn more at www.eileensanchez.com
When ‘all deliberate speed’ becomes ‘all of a sudden,’ not much changes. An intermittently potent illustration of the formidable obstacles to equality that remained―and persist―post-Brown v. Board of Education.”―Kirkus Reviews
“This powerful tale offers a beacon of hope that individuals can inspire change.”―Library Journal
“ . . . a deftly crafted novel that, although a work of fiction, is based on the author Eileen Sanchez’ personal experience teaching in Louisiana in the late sixties. Freedom Lessons is heartfelt, unflinching novel, and inherently riveting novel about the unexpected effects of school integration during that time takes on the issues our nation continues to face regarding race, unity, and identity.”―Midwest Book Review
“Freedom Lessons is a captivating and well-written story. Reading this book has changed me personally and professionally. The Deep South no doubt plays its role―the further you read in the story, the more hot and humid it starts to feel around you. Eileen succeeds where historians and academics like myself fail―recounting major societal events through the inescapable and complex humanity of her characters. A distinguished educator herself, Eileen fully delivers on the challenge of framing what teaching and learning was during this era, and Freedom Lessons forces us to ask the question of what it should be now.”―Michael R. Hicks, Ed.D., Assistant Professor of Education, Centenary College of Louisiana
”Inspired by the author’s real-life experiences, Freedom Lessons is a candid and nuanced novel about a young Northern woman who spends a year teaching in the 1960s Jim Crow South. In the process, she learns more about herself and her country than she ever expected. Freedom Lessons is illuminating and gripping, and a worthy addition to the literature of the civil rights era.”―Amy Hill Hearth, New York Times and Washington Post best-selling author and recipient of two American Library Association Notable Book citations
”In her riveting novel, Eileen Sanchez makes us feel the pain of a Louisiana community as deeply rooted prejudice undercuts school integration. Through her three characters―a white teacher from out of state, a hometown teacher scarred by personal slights, and a high school senior denied a football career when his team is relegated to second string―we experience their heartfelt frustrations while wishing history had treated them more kindly. Sanchez’s fiction gives us a glimpse into the truth of a highly flawed time and place, and the corrosive nature of prejudice that unfortunately persists today.”―Michelle Cameron, author of The Fruit of Her Hands and Beyond the Ghetto Gates
”Told in alternating viewpoints, this impressive novel reaches back in time to the early days of school integration, and to a place in America where resistance to integration was substantial.”―Historical Novel Society
Claudia Morgan is overwhelmed. She’s a single parent trying the best that she can, but her four-year-old son, Henry, is a handful – for her and for his preschool. When Claudia hears about a school with an atypical teaching style near her Chicagoland home, she has to visit.
The Hawthorne School is beautiful and has everything she dreams of for Henry: time to play outside, music, and art. The head of the school, Zelma, will even let Claudia volunteer to cover the cost of tuition. The school is good for Henry: His behavioral problems disappear, and he comes home subdued instead of rageful. But there’s something a bit off about the school, its cold halls, and its enigmatic headmistress.
When Henry brings home stories of ceremonies in the woods and odd rules, Claudia’s instincts tell her that something isn’t quite right, and she begins to realize she’s caught in a web of manipulations and power.
This exploration of what a mother will do for her child is guided by the author’s work with narcissistic manipulation and addictive power dynamics in her role as a psychotherapist.
Review
Claudia is a single parent with a child that is extremely “high strung”. She is constantly being called into the office of his school because of his behavior. She is at her wits end. But, when her friend suggests the Hawthorne School, she hopes she has found a solution.
The Hawthorne School has some unique techniques. Within the first couple of days, Claudia sees a new Henry. But, as time goes on, Claudia realizes there is more going on here than just a better behaved child.
Now…I hate to say this…and I did finish this book…but, I just didn’t like it. I don’t know if it is because it is a tad bit far fetched or if it just didn’t appeal to me. I also think Claudia is a bit gullible and that just didn’t sit well with me. I usually like “cult like” books. But, this one fell short
The narrator, Nan McNamara did a super job. Some narrators get on my nerves with the children’s voices. Nan did an excellent job with Henry.
I received this audiobook from the publisher for a honest review.
Nanny Dearest : A Novel Flora Collins On Sale Date: November 30, 2021 9780778311614 Trade Paperback $16.99 USD 336 pages
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Compulsively readable domestic suspense, perfect for fans of THE TURN OF THE KEY and THE PERFECT NANNY, about a woman who takes comfort in reconnecting with her childhood nanny after her father’s death, until she starts to uncover dark secrets the nanny has been holding for twenty years. Set in New York city and upstate New York, NANNY DEAREST is the story of twenty-five year-old Sue Keller, a young woman reeling from the recent death of her father, a particularly painful loss given that Sue’s mother died of cancer when she was only three. At just this moment of vulnerability comes Anneliese Whitaker, Sue’s former nanny from her childhood days in upstate New York. Sue, craving connection and mothering, is only too eager to welcome Annie back into her life; but as they become inseparable once again, Sue begins to uncover the truth about Annie’s unsettling time in the Keller house all those years ago, particularly the manner of her departure – or dismissal. At the same time, she begins to grow increasingly alarmed for the safety of the two new charges currently in Annie’s care. Told in alternating points of views, switching between Annie in the mid-90s and Sue in the present day, this is a taut novel of suspense with a shocking ending.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Flora Collins was born and raised in New York City and has never left, except for a four-year stint at Vassar College. When she’s not writing, she can be found watching reality shows that were canceled after one season or attempting to eat soft-serve ice cream in bed (sometimes simultaneously). Nanny Dearest is her first novel, and draws upon personal experiences from her own family history.
“I WOULD RECOGNIZE THOSE bangs anywhere,” she says, clutching her large faux-leather bag, pink nails pinching the synthetic hide. I can see the laugh lines beneath her glasses’ rims. I swallow, my tongue darting between my back molars, bracing myself.
“They stuck, I guess.” I laugh lightly, a meek trickle that escapes from my lips before I can stop it. She smiles again, this time with teeth, and I see how her front two overlap, barely discernible. But she’s standing so close that it’s hard not to notice.
“You live around here now?” She stopped me in front of a church and behind us the congregation trickles out, chatting among themselves. A child wails for lunch. The sun beats down hard and yellow, speckling the sidewalk. I raise my hand like a visor, even though I feel the weight of my oversized sunglasses, heavy on the bridge of my nose.
“Yep. Moved down to Alphabet City after college,” I answer. She nods, pushing a wisp of red hair behind her ear.
She is letting the sun in, the pupils of her green eyes shrinking with the effort.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” It’s a statement, not a question, one that she says confidently, as if it’s a sign of character that she is easily forgettable, that fading into my brain’s recesses is some kind of compliment.
The church group disperses and I step away to let a family by.
“I’m sorry. I don’t.” And then, even though she is secure in her stance, amused perhaps by my social transgression, I fumble for some excuse. “Forgive me. I-I’m not good with faces.”
She laughs, then—a long, exhilarating sound, like a wind chime. “I don’t blame you. I think you were about three feet tall the last time you saw me.” She reaches out a hand, dainty and freckled. “I’m Anneliese. Anneliese Whittaker. I was your nanny.” Her hand remains in the air for a moment, outstretched, like the bare limb of a winter tree, before I take it.
“Sue. Sue Keller.” But of course she knows who I am. She says she was my nanny.
“I used to babysit you when you lived upstate.” I flinch, unintentionally. She knew my mother. “How’s your dad? He always wanted to move back up there later in life.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, savoring the tenderized spot there, made bloody by my anxious jaw. “He passed last year. Car accident.”
Anneliese puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening behind the glasses. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. You must miss him a lot, don’t you? He was your whole world back when I knew you.”
I offer her a smile. “Yes, well, aren’t most little girls that way with their fathers?”
The child is still screaming for lunch. His mother is speaking to another woman, the three of them the only people left in front of the church.
“Yes, well, I guess that’s true. You and your dad had a special bond, though.” She gazes at me then, her face full of compassion, those green eyes penetrative.
And we’re silent, for a beat too long. So I find myself shuffling, moving around her. “I actually have to meet a friend.” I check my wrist though I’m not wearing a watch. “But it was funny running into you.” I give her what I hope is an apologetic smile, backing away from her, toward the curb.
She stops me, one of those tiny hands on my wrist, almost tugging at my sleeve like a child. “Wait. I’d love to see you again.” She digs around in her purse. I catch sight of a book, earbuds, some capped pens, a grimy-looking ChapStick. She takes out a receipt, uncaps a pen, and leans the paper against the church’s stone masonry, scrawling her number. The figures are dainty, like her hands.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Tell your friend a crazy lady stopped and demanded you spend time with her.” She laughs again, that wind chime chortle, and I pocket the receipt.
“Nice to see you again!” I call, making the traffic light just in time. When I cross the street and turn, she’s gone, consumed by the hordes, no sign of that red hair glinting in the sunlight.
“And you stopped? I would’ve kept on walking. No time for nutso people like that,” Beth says through the phone as I pace my studio, absentmindedly throwing trash away, smoothing out the creases in my bedspread, my phone nestled between my shoulder and ear. I set it down and put her on speaker. I have the urge, suddenly, to rearrange the furniture in this miniscule apartment. To move the bed to the other side of the room, away from the window, from the noise of the street.
“She knew my name, Beth. She called out ‘Sue.’ I wasn’t going to ignore that.” Outside, a siren wails and I pull down the shade.
“That’s why you always wear headphones. So you have an excuse not to deal with those kinds of people.” Beth smacks her gum, the noise ricocheting through the tinny speaker.
“So you really don’t remember if I had a nanny called Anneliese?” I crumple up the wax paper from my bagel, letting it drift to the floor. The old family photo albums from that period are in storage, buried deep inside the disorganized cardboard boxes I hired movers to collect when I cleaned out Dad’s apartment.
“Dude, we met when we were five. I don’t think I knew my own mom’s name back then. I certainly wouldn’t remember who your babysitter was.” I close my eyes and massage my temples, my usual insomnia-inflicted headache edging toward a dull throb. I don’t remember a long-term nanny. I never had any babysitters growing up, just my dad.
I hear Beth say something to her girlfriend, a bark, and I walk away from the phone for a minute with a twinge of annoyance that she’s not giving me her undivided attention.
I think of Anneliese’s face, those teeth, the green eyes. The hair. And.
And.
I am running in a field with her, in the yard behind the house upstate. The garden is giant. Huge sunflowers, hedges high enough to block the sun. Beneath me, the grass is lush, dewy, tickling my bare feet. And the sky is white, hot and blazing. And she is behind me, shrieking, her freckled arm outstretched, a paintbrush in her hand tinged blue.
And I feel its slick bristles on my back and I fall, stumble. But I am laughing. And she is, too, her orange hair like a halo, eclipsing the sun.
I open my eyes.
“Anyway, I’m having some people over next weekend. I know you hate parties these days but you’re so cooped up all the time in that apartment. I swear it’ll be fun…” Beth squawks on, her voice shrill through the speaker.
“I remember her.”
Beth pauses mid-ramble. “What?”
“I remember her. Anneliese. The woman who stopped me today. She’s not nuts. I remember her.”
There’s a heavy silence on the other end. “Are you sure? You just said you didn’t.” Beth’s voice has lowered an octave, as if she’s whispering. Which I know is for my benefit, so her girlfriend won’t hear.
I tighten my hand into a fist. “I’m serious. She was my nanny. We used to play this game with paint.”
Beth sighs. “Still weird to me. You’re not thinking about calling her or anything like that, right?” But I’m already reaching into the garbage bag I use as a hamper, sifting through it for the sweats I wore earlier today. I take out the receipt, smoothing it out against my knee. It’s for shampoo, coconut Herbal Essences, and I can smell it on her, as if it’s 1996 and I am on the floor of my blue-carpeted bedroom and she is swinging her princess hair to and fro as we play Candy Land, the smell even more enticing than how I imagined Queen Frostine’s scent.
Tears prick my eyelids.
“I want to see her.” It comes out sounding infantile, testy even. And I hear Beth breathing, willing herself not to lash out.
“Okay. Okay, Suzy. Just meet in public and bring some pepper spray. Remember, she stopped you in the street. She really could be anyone, even if she did babysit you a thousand years ago.” I hear her put another piece of gum in her mouth, the wrapper like static.
“I know. She’s just a nice middle-aged woman. And maybe she has some cool things to say about my parents.” I know that will get Beth off my back. Any mention of my parents gets anyone off my back.
I hear her breath as she blows a bubble, the snap of the gum sticking to her lip. “I’m just trying to be a good friend. Don’t fault me for it.” Her voice has lowered again. “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: you’ve been spending way too much time alone. It’s not like you and I can tell it’s getting to you. It would get to me.” But my finger is already hovering over the End Call button, eager to get Beth off the line.
“I appreciate it. But for real, now I have work to do. I’ll text you.” She spends one more minute reminding me to come to her party next weekend and I promise I will, even though we both know I won’t, and I hang up first, still fingering that crumpled receipt, studying the perfectly shaped eights in the handwritten phone number, each the same height, the same size.
Outside, a dog barks. And I bark back, loud and sharp, laughing at myself, my apartment easing into darkness as the sun sets.
reecaspieces 