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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... night.” Her expression was sheepish as she looked away. “What aren't you saying?” Anna asked for the fourth time since breakfast. Granny was great at helping other people—she ought to know—but when it came to herself, she kept to ...
... night, picturing Rob's small worried face peering around the corner. She'd been twelve and he'd been ten. Did he still blame her for Henry's lechery? Had he even understood what had happened? If only he'd gone with her to Granny's camp ...
... night air washed over her, bringing immediate relief. She shoved her hands into deep pockets, and strode away from the lights and noise. At the edge of the parking lot, she headed down a poorly shoveled trail. Her eyes adjusted quickly ...
... night air, bags and suitcases piled in a heap beside them. She hunched down, making herself as small as possible. “Hey, guys, think about your service to the Lord this weekend,” the leader said. “What kind of example are you setting ...
... night. She glanced at her watch. It was almost midnight. “Thanks,” she whispered, flashing Shirley a grateful smile. “It's okay,” Shirley mouthed, then resumed her reading. Anna sat back in bed with a sigh. Shirley was indeed a pushover ...