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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... of bright lipstick across her mouth. She'd worn the same color, cherry delight, since she was eighteen years old. She'd worked for the practice for years, long after her kids were grown and gone, creating a haven for 3 The Crystal Fishbowl.
... , and other things, too. She's been cooking all week.” Anna's mouth watered. His mother made fabulous Greek food in huge quantities and delighted in urging her to eat, claiming she was too skinny. “I'll try,” 7 The Crystal Fishbowl.
... detail about her condition, down to her funeral arrangements. She just couldn't talk about it. Not right now, anyway. “I'm sorry,” he said, “maybe some other time.” Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. The pause was 8 Wendy MacGown.
Wendy MacGown. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. The pause was awkward, as least for her. She had to say something. She had to end this before it began. “How about next week?” he asked. “Maybe we can see a movie, or go for an ice ...
... mouth, feeling like a fool. He grinned, making her insides ache; and she searched the hard planes of his maturing face for the little boy who'd followed her on the shores of the lake. It was a face much like her own, but a masculine ...