The Crystal FishbowlAuthorHouse, 29. okt. 2007 - 436 sider Anna Westover had no idea at seventeen, still grief-stricken from the loss of her grandmother, and back living with her horrible family, that Victor Spofford, a young charismatic Baptist preacher, would be the wrong choice, the worst choice. On her grandmothers insistence shed refused to even date the boy shed always loved, simply because he wasnt Baptist. Annas wedding was a dream; her new life in western Massachusetts a wondrous challengeuntil mysterious letters began to arrive. Then Victor changed . . . or was it that he finally revealed his true nature? No one would believe that he abused her. He never hitat least not intentionally. And as the preachers wife, she could confide in no one. To others, he was gorgeous, enlightened and dynamic. He knew the perfect words to give comfort or guidance. He brought scores of sinners to the Lord with his woeful childhood tales. Who was she but his meek wife, lovely yet subdued, who sat in her accustomed front-row pew each Sunday morning, gazing up at him in adoration? He was always sorry later: crying, begging forgiveness. And she wanted to believe him. He was so pitiful in his sorrow. But after he lost his job and they returned to New Hampshire, her hopes are firmly and completely crushed when another letter arrives, and she uncovers his lies. Desperate for comfort, she turns to another man. Then the violence escalates and she must take a stand. |
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... late— not too bad. Would you like a cup of tea? I have some cinnamon scones, too, though they don't compare with Anna's.” She grinned at Anna, and Anna smiled back. “You're getting taller every day, girl, and pretty, too. The boys must ...
... late, well past ten. Several busses had already arrived, with more coming. Campers and counselors spilled out onto the lot, their coats of winter hues: bright blues, greens, reds and sporty stripes. They toted suitcases or duffels ...
... late that night. After a glorious day in the snow, Anna filed into the gym's huge doors with a tide of other kids. It was no longer her building, her sole friend on a lonely winter's night. Rusty basketball hoops, with frayed nets ...
... later, when I was twelve, I moved back with her, this time without Rob. There's other stuff I can't talk about . . . not exactly the perfect family.” “No, but . . ..” Lucy's expression softened. She looked like an eager puppy finally ...
... late and we have an early morning ahead.” “You're right,” she said, moving away, her fingertips finally, reluctantly, breaking contact. “Come along,” he said, his smile cool as he gestured toward the hall's main door, then walked away ...