Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Mainstream
Publisher: Amazon.com
Type: Fiction
Pages: 713
ISBN-13: 9798516411632
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Join Maddie Wharton Saldivar's journey to turn tragedy into triumph. Life at the intersection of horses. And angels.
Her Borrowed Angel traces the life of book-smart Madeline Wharton Saldivar from her childhood in rural, deeply-segregated Georgia to adulthood in northern Mexico and southern Texas.
Maddie’s life—like all lives—plays out against the current events and changing social moods of the times. Deeply committed to family—and horses, or at least the idea of horses—Maddie struggles with the painful truths and impossible situations of abuse and dysfunction within her own small world.
Buoyed by her sister Hattie’s infallible courage and her ability to catalog life into manageable increments she understands through her book learning and an ability to manufacture faith to lean on, Maddie survives her childhood—only to be disowned when she falls in love with Tavo, an undocumented worker at the dude ranch she flees to when she leaves home to help Hattie escape.
Over her lifetime, Maddie collects more angels than horses and confronts the harsh reality that her half-brother Wally might have been right when he warned her that book-smart wasn’t as useful as life-smart.
Wife, mother, and teacher, Maddie’s life changes with the birth of her granddaughter—her borrowed angel.
Excerpt
I woke to the smell of bacon frying and incessant giggling from the kitchen. Intrigued, I hastily found decent clothing, changed in the bathroom, and crept toward the kitchen.
Tav was frying bacon—cursing every time hot grease burned him, then turning to Gaby and making hushing sounds at her. He also was singing, which was the main reason Gaby was cracking up and he was burning breakfast. Neither of them noticed me, until I heard what he was trying to sing and laughed, too.
Dolly’s I Will Always Love You, punctuated liberally with the swearing and laughter. We needed to talk, Tav and I, but dredging up the anger and hurt right now seemed pointless.
Gaby turned and saw me. She practically flung the tortilla she was holding onto the stack on the counter and ran out of the kitchen. I stared after her, shocked. And hurt. She hadn’t even said good morning. She must have heard us fighting. Did she blame me?
Then she was back, grinning, holding a large bouquet of freshly cut red roses in a soda bottle. “Daddy and I borrowed them. For you.”
“Thank you. They’re beautiful. But?”
“Remember, Celestina? The roses from Señora Josie’s garden?”
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