There was always the smell of linseed oil and terpentine and greyish, dirty-looking rags around. And there was a great big book on the coffee table of famous paintings. I hadn't seen my father for two years.
There were pictures of throngs of angels and chubby cupids with naked rumps and kneeling, Immaculate Virgins. My father seemed a teeny bit uneasy that I preferred to sit on the couch with the large book of pictures, rather than move around.
Unfathomably deep, the roar of a plane, passing over, consoled me. I was a tall girl but still uncentered and not yet transformed into a stable, feminine soul. The years without my father, whom, in my heart, I felt more comfortable with and liked best, were clearly leaving their mark on my eventual transition into womanhood.
Like the star prizefighter, I had been coached, two years earlier, by my mother, beforehand, on what to say to the Judge, when time came for awarding custody. It was my complete spiritual undoing that I hadn't been spontaneous and chosen my father Although, as my mother always reminded me, he never did the caring for me.
A patch of light, like a hand on a sundial, moved an increment along the hardwood floor.
Book three in the Megan Martin series finds Megan, May, and Brianna trying to find the missing parents of a homeless girl. In addition, the girls are introduced to the local homeless shelter and do their best to make a happy Christmas for all their
Khenlee has reached 12 Cycles of Seasons and will find which working circle she will now belong to. She is shocked to find out what the gods have decided what her life work will be.
