D. J. Maughan Presents Idaho Fall: A Twisty Whodunit - A Personal Favorite for 2025

Since waking outside my body, a question has nagged at me. What would become of me? If the machines turn off, and I stop breathing, will I cease to exist? Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? Which one would I go to? I’m not a good person. There’s plenty of evidence to prove that. My kids resent me, my coworkers despise me, and my sister thinks I’m an unforgiving shrew... 

“Who sings this song?” Hank looks over at Joyce, his partner, from the driver’s side of the white Dodge Charger he’s driving. She’s looking out the window, lost in thought, unaware she’s asked the question. He knows better. She does nothing by accident. He turns up the radio and listens more intently. Razzle ‘n’ a dazzle ‘n’ a flash a little light Television lover, baby, go all night Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah So c’mon, take a bottle, shake it up Break the bubble, break it up Pour some sugar on me Ooh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me C’mon, fire me up Pour your sugar on me I can’t get enough “Aerosmith?” She turns and watches him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Final answer?” The smile stops him. After hearing the chorus, he felt so confident. But now… He holds up a finger. It’s a game Joyce loves to play. From the first day he was assigned to partner with the legendary Joyce Powers, she’s been quizzing him. After receiving the partnership assignment from the captain after his promotion to detective, Hank had trailed her as they’d walked out of the station and headed for the car. She had tossed him the keys, saying nothing. Not two blocks into the commute, she’d turned up the radio, looked out the window, and asked him to identify the song artist. He’d stared at her, and she’d smiled at him like she was now. “Tell you what,” she’d said, “you get it right, and I’ll buy you a Coke. Get it wrong…and you buy me one. Deal?” Knowing he was being set up, but worrying he would disappoint her, Hank agreed. He bought her a Coke that day and almost every day since. “No…wait. It’s Def Leppard.” Her smile vanishes. “Final answer?” “Yes.” He says it with more conviction than he feels. Joyce nods. “Correct.” “Ha!” Hank exclaims, slapping the steering wheel. She grins and goes back to looking out the window. “Well done, Detective.” It’s the detective that pulls his attention from the road. He nearly swerves as he looks at her. He was pleased that, for the first time in weeks, she’d be buying rather than him. But her calling him “detective” fills him with pride. Detective is a term Joyce reserves for excellence. This was only the third time she’d used it when speaking of him. Three times in the nine months since they became partners. The other two were crime scene investigations. He had noticed something she had missed. Or, perhaps, she was testing him and he’d passed. Aware that his eyes are on her, she doesn’t look at him. “I think this is it,” she says, pointing to the corner store on the right. He pulls the vehicle into one of the twenty open parking spaces and they exit. A balding man, medium height, lean, mid forties, is standing outside waiting for them. “Mr. Decker?” Joyce asks, extending her hand to him after exiting the vehicle. “My name is Detective Joyce Powers, and this is my partner, Hank Gardener. I understand you’ve had a robbery?” Mr. Decker peers at Joyce and then up at Hank. Walter Matthau and Jack Lemon were a less odd pairing than these two. Joyce had been on the force for thirty years. She was less than a year from retirement. She was small, below five feet, white, with short, graying hair. She looked more like a character from The Golden Girls than a detective. Hank, on the other hand, had been on the force for less than a year. Joyce was his first partner and trainer. A California native, he came to Idaho to play college football as a defensive tackle at Boise State. After a tryout in the NFL, he returned to Idaho and never left. Six foot five, two hundred and seventy pounds, and black. He was a man who garnered a lot of attention. Especially in lily-white southern Idaho. “Mr. Decker? The robbery?” Joyce prods. Decker shakes his head, lost in thought, and turns his attention back to her. “Let me show you.” He walks them through the store, past the racks of road and mountain bikes, to the back. A couple of young kids in their early twenties watch them. They have bicycles before them on stands, tires removed, and tools in their hands. There’s a door behind the maintenance area. It’s propped on the doorframe and removed from the hinges. “When I came in this morning, I found it this way.” Both detectives nod, and Hank moves over to examine the door more closely. “Sir, do you have a security system in the store?” Decker shakes his head. “I’ve never needed one.” Hank holds a notepad and makes a note. “Security cameras? Nothing? I saw a sign out front,” Joyce says. “Well, yeah, there’s a camera, but it doesn’t store recordings. It notifies me of motion, but I shut off the notifications on my phone. They used to wake me up at night with a cat or raccoon walking past.” “I see.” Hank takes a couple of giant strides and is back beside Joyce. Decker looks at him and takes a step back. “What did they take?” Joyce asks. Decker walks them back out to the retail section of the building. “They took two bikes,” he says as they walk. “Only two?” He nods. They reach the west wall, and a bike mount sits empty. “They must have known what they were doing?” “What makes you say that?” Joyce asks. “Because they took the most expensive bikes in the store.” Joyce examines the bike on the ground below the mount on the wall. “Maybe,” she says. “Oh, believe me,” Decker says, raising his voice, frustration showing. Hank glares at him, and he ducks his head and goes on more calmly. “They know bikes. This one was a Santa Cruz Heckler. And the other one,” Decker points to another mount on the opposite wall, “was a Pivot Mach 4. They knew bikes.” Joyce looks at him, then at Hank, then back to Decker. “I haven’t ridden a bike in,” Joyce pauses and blows out her breath, “maybe twenty years. I don’t know the first thing about them. Would you believe that?” Decker grunts and nods. “But I would have stolen the same bikes if I could only take two.” Decker guffaws. “No, you wouldn’t.” “I would, actually.” Decker rolls his eyes and then glances at Hank. Hank says nothing, his eyes trained on him. “You don’t believe me?” Decker smiles and shakes his head. “Just look at your store, Mr. Decker. I’m betting you’ve owned it for quite a while.” “Thirteen years.” Joyce nods. “And you’re a smart businessman. Maybe shortsighted, turning off notifications about camera activity and storage notwithstanding.” Hank smiles. “But I’m betting you know you have the highest margins on the two stolen bikes. That’s why you placed them above the others on a mount. Look around. They’re the only two mounts in this place.” Decker frowns. “They aren’t just more expensive than the others. You make more money when you sell one. You’re placing a premium on the bikes. What does each cost? Twenty thousand?” Decker’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “How’d you know that?” Joyce doesn’t answer. “And you make…maybe seven thousand on each?” Shock registers in Decker’s eyes, and Hank’s smile widens. “But I will agree with you on one thing, Mr. Decker.” Deckers’s tone is soft now. “Oh?” Joyce nods. “Your thieves, more than likely, knew bikes.” Decker’s face contorts with confusion. “They only took two. If I were a common thief, I’d bring a truck and load up. Those aren’t the only bikes with value. That leads me to believe they had a limited capacity. A bike rack in their vehicle. They took two because they could only carry two.” “So what does that mean?” She ignores the question. “Are you familiar with insurance fraud, Mr. Decker?” Fury fills his eyes. “What are you suggesting?” He takes a step toward Joyce but quickly looks up as Hank moves between them. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you that you stole the bikes, hoping to be paid insurance money. Judging by the dust built up on the stands, you held those bikes for months. They’ve been eating up your cash flow.” Five minutes later, Joyce and Hank climb back in the car, and Hank pulls out onto the road. He looks at her, but she’s staring out the window. She glances over at him as he drives to their favorite gas station. “Double or nothing?” She points to the radio on the dash. Hank shakes his head. “No?” “Nope.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t want two Cokes.” She laughs, and he grins at her. “How did you know, anyway?” “What?” “How much the guy made on each bike? How did you know?” She goes back to looking out the window and waves a hand. “Oh, that…” “Yeah. I mean, I understand how you knew their worth. At least a ballpark. Each bike had a price tag. But how’d you know how much he made on them?” She turns back to him and smiles when her phone rings. She takes it out of the carrier she wears on her belt, checks the ID, and answers. “Yes, Chief.” Hank can hear the low voice of the police captain on the other end of the line, but he can’t make out the words. Joyce pulls out her notepad and writes an address. She repeats it into the phone, then hangs up. “Looks like the Coke will have to wait.”

~~~

If you don't believe in the "possibility" then you may think this book is hard to understand... On the other hand, nothing that was written in this fantastic book was not appreciated by this reader! Say, for instance, the way by which music was brought into the story. I loved it!

You see, the female investigator who has just received a new partner, loves to test the knowledge of any new partner by turning on the car radio and in the middle of the song, ask her partner to name the band that plays that particular song. Hank is an ex-sports player and happens to be Black--perhaps the only Black man in the town of Idaha Fall... So I'm guessing Hank, if he gets into music, it would not be the same groups that his new partner cared for... Still, he's the new guy, so when she says that if he can guess, she'd buy the coke for that day, and vice versa, Hank knew he'd get the short end of the betting activity... On the other hand, it is clear that this is a team that work well together. Hank can handle the initial interrogation, while Joyce works to form a picture of the individual who is possibly a murderer... And, she's fantastic in getting all the details and beginning to formulate a plan of action to move forward in this investigation...

I don’t quite know how to describe it. It’s not like I opened my eyes and suddenly became aware of my consciousness. I don’t even have eyes. At least, I don’t think I do. I don’t have shape. I just…am. I don’t have physical constraints, but something is pulling me. It’s not above me. There’s not a cloud in the sky. Only a massive shade of blue and the sun. The sun lights the area all around me, but I can’t feel its warmth. Although the colors are vibrant and intoxicating, it’s no more potent than a lightbulb. It’s not the sky above that calls to me. It’s something on the ground. Some gravitational pull. I look down and see a body. It’s a woman. Her legs and arms are spread. She’s lying on her back. Her brown hair with blonde highlights is pulled back in a ponytail. Only a portion of it is visible under her head. As I examine her, my consciousness moves closer. Her skin is pale, lifeless. A ripple like a cool breeze flows over me as I approach. Her eyes are shut. She looks as if she’s asleep. She’s wearing a bright-pink long-sleeve shirt, black leggings, and bright-pink tennis shoes. A logo of a B is embroidered on the left side of her chest. Something’s wrong. Beneath her, on the deck surface, pools a crimson liquid. She shouldn’t be here. Something happened to her. As I search for the origin of the crimson liquid, a sound from within the house grabs my attention. I move away from the body. Inside the house, a man enters the kitchen. He pours himself a cup of coffee. He exits the kitchen and ascends the stairs. I follow him as he enters the large bedroom. I know him. I recognize him, as if he’s someone close to me. The blankets on the bed are disheveled. He moves toward the bathroom but stops. Taking a sip of his coffee, he looks at the coffee cup on the nightstand beside the bed. He walks over to it. Seeing it full, he turns and looks to the balcony. His expression changes, and he walks toward it. When he reaches the threshold, he stops. “Rita?” he calls, looking around. “Rita?” Rita? Is that the woman on the ground? He steps out onto the balcony and nearly slips, gripping the railing. The railing is low, only reaching partway up his thigh. He looks down. “Rita!” he screams when he sees her. He drops his coffee cup and sprints through the room and down the stairs. He runs out the back of the house to the patio deck. “Rita!” The woman doesn’t respond or move. He kneels beside her, reaching out tentatively, then stops. “Rita,” he calls, but she doesn’t react. I can see the source of the crimson liquid now. The back of her hair is matted with blood. It pools on the surface and drips down. The man calls to her one more time, then backs away and runs into the house. He picks up the phone on the counter and dials 9-1-1.

~~~

And this case is as complicated as it can get, especially when the victim, who lands at the foot of her balcony, has left her body, often wondering whether this is what happens to anybody else... But this woman is somebody who has changed in the last few years, and "somebody up there" has stepped in to help her... Rita quickly learns that she can be anywhere she wants by thinking of the individual she wants to be near... Rita, who was feeling unappreciated years ago, by both her husband and her four boys, she began to consider what to do to change how she was feeling, especially about her appearance. She found time to create and produce an undergarment that could be worn by any woman and her natural body curves would be highlighted... It was an immediate success and, when it looked like her income would be larger than her husband's, they decided to switch roles and James quit his job to handle home and family responsibilities.

Things were ok at first, until her main product was a huge success and a company contacted her to assist her in moving her small company forward financially but what that meant was that Rita soon was working more hours, rarely getting home, and, importantly, began to feel the pressure of handling everything that needed to be done... James and the family suffered since they rarely saw her... But soon I recognized that she had moved into job burnout (like I had) and her personality and normal communication skills had deteriorated so much that even her neighbors and family were getting negative feedback on an ongoing basis. She soon had a reputation that she had not realized... And here's what I knew, she'd received heavenly help to be removed from her body and begin to see herself as others had come to see her. In fact, when she tried to return to her body and couldn't, I knew this was...meant...to...be.

Readers will travel around with Rita as she "hooks" on, mostly to Joyce and Hank as they investigate. Rita as determined to discover who had murdered her! Yes, readers will learn quickly exactly what happened as Rita got ready to do her usual work activities on her bedroom balcony... and know that Rita recognized who it was who pushed her off the balcony.

But, although Rita was still able to observe and think, she had amnesia and could not remember even who she had known immediately who had killed her...

Imagine if you would that you are able to travel from place to place, and, essentially, learn how people have seen you during the last few years of your life. Would that be a good experience? Or would you find out that your personality had changed, due to the work load. Yeah, I knew what was going on right from the beginning, except for who the murderer was! Job Burnout is now a recognized medical condition that is treatable, but also, does not eliminate the PTSD of knowing what had been happening to you.

I was especially thankful that the author had pulled in the ramifications to Rita's children when they had at first had a stay-at-home Mom  who was there for them at all times, and, then see that she was now, to them, seemingly unconcerned about them and their lives...

Read this book carefully for many reasons. However, no way around this, I was turning those pages and finally finished the book in one time period around 3AM this morning... It's fun, it's sad, it's hearwarming, and yet, shows what the emotions of envy, the desire for money, and other temptations may arise within the family and professional dynamic. Love making a high recommendation on this one!

GABixlerReviews

“Are we wrong? We’ve got nothing concrete--going to get away with it.” Joyce stomps her foot and kicks a dandelion while growling. She clenches and unclenches her hands, takes several deep breaths, and looks up at the leaves on the trees. “Why? Why didn’t we see cracks?” He shrugs. "Cold as ice.” She looks at him and chuckles when she sees his smile. “I’ll buy you a Coke if you can tell me the band.” “Easy. Foreigner.” She smacks him on the shoulder, and they walk back to the car. “I’m impressed, Detective.” He grins. “How’d you know that?” He opens his door. “For the last year, rock music is all you’ve let me listen to. I’ve been thinking about growing out my hair, bleaching it, and getting some tight pants. Maybe get a leather jacket.” She laughs as he starts the engine. “Saundra would love it.” “You think?”

~~~

Heading to the Beach for Happiness, Heartbreak, Honesty, and Home... The Mendocino Book Club #1 by Nellie Brooks

 

“What’s that book you got?” “It’s a historical account of senate meetings.” He accelerated, and the momentum pressed Sara into her seat. “The Roman Empire, huh?” “Boring, I know. I’m putting a case together and want to make a certain point.”

Happiness

They drove through the last of the dying light, brushing along the coast before turning away from the sea and driving uphill. Hannah, her elbow in the open window and a mild breeze ruffling her curls, didn’t ask where they were going. She didn’t question their destination; she trusted Alex to take care of her, her mind still lingering on the way he had looked at her in the parking lot. Soon, their car pulled into a small parking lot, tires crunching on gravel as they parked. Hannah smiled. “It’s a vineyard! What a view!” She had been to other vineyards in the area, but none as charming as this one. The last light was fading into the lavender-blue of a velvety night, casting a soft glow over the sweeping hills and valleys that spread before them. Row after row of vines covered the land, their branches carrying luxurious clusters of red, purple, and green grapes. “Their wine is great, but the food is even better,” Alex promised. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s see what they have for us.” 

They got out of the car, and Hannah, still tingling from being called gorgeous, deeply inhaled the warm, fragrant evening air. The aroma of sun-ripened grapes mingled with the delicious smells of a charcoal grill, and she suddenly realized how hungry she really was. When the breeze carried the aroma of rosemary and thyme, garlic and sun-dried tomatoes sizzling in olive oil to them, Hannah’s stomach growled. She laughed. “Oops.” “Don’t worry.” Alex smiled at her. “Same.” They started walking toward the vinery’s roofed terrace. A band at the far end was playing jazz music, and many of the tables were already taken, the soft chatting and laughter of the vineyard guests as welcoming as the view and the fragrant air. A party of four was just leaving, and a young server seated Hannah and Alex at their table by the railing. “Couldn’t have picked a better spot,” Hannah said gratefully. The day had been jam-packed with mixed emotions and complicated feelings, old conflict and new resolution. But now that she was here, with Alex, she felt safe, comfortable, and happy. 

“Good evening.” A new server brought menus, and her face lit up with recognition. “You are Hannah! Aren’t you?” Hannah looked up. She’d seen the young woman before, and it didn’t take long for the penny to drop. “Zoe! From the restaurant in Mendocino Cove!” “Yes, the Mermaid Galley.” Smiling, Zoe pulled out a notepad and pencil. “I work here too. I’m trying to scrape together the money to buy a bakery.” “I’ll be your first customer.” Hannah beamed. Zoe nodded. “I always wondered how you were doing.” “Much better than when we last met.” Impulsively, Hannah stood and pulled Zoe into a hug. “You were the first one to give me a hand when I needed it most. I’ll never forget it.” “Nah, no worries.” Flushing with pleasure, Zoe hugged Hannah back before letting her go. “I’m glad to see you again. 

So, what can I get you?” “Wine?” Alex smiled at Hannah. “I think you deserve a glass of something good. Maybe we can get a recommendation?” “Yes, please. Wine sounds great.” “I’ll bring you something nice to go with dinner.” Zoe thoughtfully tapped her pencil against her lower lip. “I highly recommend the ribeye steak and the grilled halibut with a creamy herb and citrus sauce. The kitchen has outdone themselves with those tonight.” Alex slid his menu back with a satisfied look. “Steak works for me.” “And I’d love the halibut, actually.” Hannah handed her menu back as well. “You had me at cream sauce.” A man in his fifties, with tan skin, silver hair at the temples, and laughing eyes, stopped on his way past the table. “Did I hear someone order the halibut?” “And steak.” Zoe smiled. “This is Jon Donovan, the owner of the vineyard,” she introduced him. “Jon, these are Hannah, of Mendocino Beach, and…um…” She looked expectantly at Alex. “Alex Shaw,” Hannah repaid the favor of introduction. “He owns the bookstore in Mendocino Beach.” “Really!” Jon held out a hand. “I remember the last owner; he was a friend of my dad’s.” His lips curved into a smile. “If I remember right, you look an awful lot like him.” “He was my dad.” Alex stood and shook Jon’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jon.” “Good to meet you too. I heard something about his son being in the military, is that right? I’m glad you found your way back home. We should catch up sometime soon. The vinery’s doors are always open for old friends.” “Ex-military. Would be my pleasure.” Jon smiled at Hannah. “Do you enjoy Mendocino?” “I love it,” she replied sincerely. “I grew up in Mendocino Beach and just returned to live here. I’m hoping to get our old family home back.” “Ah. Best of luck. My wife, Jenny, also returned here not too long ago.” The look in his eyes softened when he said her name, but then he smiled. “Let’s get you settled for dinner. For the steak, I’d say the cabernet sauvignon. It has notes of dark berries and cedar. Works well with grilled meat.” “Sounds great.” Alex nodded and sat back down. “And for the grilled halibut…” Jon turned to Hannah. “I’ve got a very nice sauvignon blanc. It’s crisp, with light citrus flavors. The perfect match for the halibut.” “Sounds lovely.” Hannah smiled back. She was getting used to having people in the know decide what would be the most delicious food and drink for her, and she liked it very much indeed. “I’ll get to it. Enjoy.” Jon knocked on the table and left. 

Zoe picked up the menus. “Be right back with a breadbasket.” She left, returning her notepad to the pocket of her black half-apron. The jazz music slowed into a new melody. Several couples rose to dance in the center space of the terrace, while others stayed seated, eating and laughing with friends and family. “I love the fireflies,” Hannah said dreamily, propping her chin in her hand and looking out at the rolling hills. “Look, Alex.” She pointed at the rows of vines. The last light of the sun had vanished, replaced with the twinkle of string lights under the roof and the silver glow of a waxing moon. In the grapevines, the dry yellow grass, the branches of the old oaks, and the shadows sparkled and flashed the lights of thousands, if not millions, of fireflies. “Isn’t that pretty?” 

“Beautiful.” Alex smiled, but his gaze was on Hannah, not the sparkling hills. When she noticed it, she smiled back, butterflies stirring in her stomach. “No, really, Alex. Look.” “I am looking. I thought I’d seen enough when I came back from the war, so I kept wearing the eye patch. But I don’t need it anymore, not now that you are home. I want to see you with both eyes, Hannah.” He stood and extended his hand toward her. “I can’t remember the last time I danced. Will you do me the honor?” The invitation startled her. Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she had danced either. Evan had never… She blinked, stopping herself as she rose. It no longer mattered what her ex had or had not done. Hannah’s past had no hold over her here, in this beautiful night, in the company of this man. Smiling, her heart beating a little faster, she gave Alex her hand. “I’d love to dance with you, Alex Shaw,” she said softly, marveling at how alive, happy, and safe she felt with him. He led her to the dance floor and gently took her into his arms. Protected by the strength of his embrace, Hannah relaxed completely. Not caring what anyone thought, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his shoulder. 

“You smell of roses,” he murmured, his arms tightening as he guided her steps to the music. “The yellow roses that grow at the bookstore.” “And you smell of books and coffee.” She smiled softly. “I didn’t know you could dance.” Something brushed her hair. His chin—or his lips? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hannah.” She lifted her head to look into his blue, starry eyes. “There’s also a lot you don’t know about me, Alex.” He tightened his arms even more, pulling her closer. She again rested her head on his shoulder. “I hate that you are married,” he whispered, his voice so low she could barely hear it. “Only in name. Everything else—it’s all over. I’m divorcing him. Or maybe he’s divorcing me. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“Are you going to let him have your house?” “Why?” She smiled. “Because it’s yours. Because you belong in Mendocino Beach. Unless you want to leave again?” “No,” she whispered. “I want to live here. I’ve always wanted to live here.” “Really?” He stopped and gently lifted her chin with his finger. “Do you mean that?” His gaze held hers captive. “Tell me what you really think, Hannah. I don’t play. That’s one thing you don’t yet know about me.” She reached up, burying her hands in his hair. It was soft and full despite its short length, and she ran a finger along the silver strand at his temple, smiling at his earnest face. “I know you’ve been hurt before. But just so you know—as far as I’m concerned, I’m no longer married and I’m staying in Mendocino Beach. Do what you think is right, Alex.” Another song ended, and the music faded. The surrounding guests erupted into applause, the jazz musicians acknowledging the break with quick sips from their wine glasses. And yet, in that moment, it felt as though Hannah and Alex were the only two people in the moonlight on the terrace. “If that is really how you feel…” His chest heaved with a deep, steadying breath. He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But I know how hard it can be to let go of the past. A divorce is one thing. But opening your heart to love again? That’s another thing, Hannah.” His eyes searched her face. “With you, I don’t want just a taste and a trial. I don’t want half-hearted.” “What do you want?” she whispered. “I want it all. Are you ready to give love a second chance?”

Heartbreak

The Worse April Food's Day Joke Ever!

Because it Wasn't a Joke!

Actually, it was Hannah's birthday which was Worse!

The moving truck is not going to get here today, Hannah.” Evan set his phone on the car dash as he stared at the pretty seaside cottage in front of them. Confused, Hannah unbuckled her seat belt and brushed back an unruly corkscrew curl threaded with the first strands of silver. “Was that a text from the company?” After months of planning and arranging their move from San Jose to Mendocino Beach, she’d expected things to work smoothly. That included having the truck get to her mother’s old cottage before she and her husband arrived. “They said they’d be here for sure.” “I know. I know they did.” 

He turned to her, a wary look in his eyes. “Hannah. Sometimes, things change. Sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.” “It’s my forty-fifth birthday today, honey,” she said cheerfully. “I’m no spring chicken. I’m well aware things don’t always go according to plan. But I’m okay. You know me. I’m always okay.” She smiled and, for a moment, cupped his smooth cheek in her hand, giving her husband her undivided attention. To her, it had been a pleasant drive. But Evan’s shirt was crumpled, and he looked sweaty and hot. Maybe navigating the bay area traffic had been more stressful than she’d realized. All the long drive over the mountain range, he had barely talked. Feeling a surge of love, Hannah hummed reassuringly, caressing his cheek with her thumb. Evan was taking the move hard; that was something else she hadn’t expected. He had agreed to it readily enough when Hannah’s old childhood home in Mendocino Beach had come on the market for the first time in decades. Hannah had been beyond excited to see the listing. Her heart had hammered almost painfully hard in her chest when she rushed into her husband’s office, a print-out of the listing in hand. He’d studied the listing distractedly first, then more interestedly—Hannah forever told him stories of the happy years she’d spent there as a child. His bare tolerance of her excitement had turned into questions and interest, and finally a light dawned in his eyes that told her all she wanted to know. They would have a new beginning by the sea! The next day, Evan had called the listing agent and put down an offer; when it was accepted, they celebrated with laughter, champagne, and sushi. 

But now, looking wary and disheveled, Evan frowned. His eyes roamed her face as if he was searching for something he’d lost. “Are you all right?” His voice was quiet, almost as if he was asking himself, not her. Hannah tipped her head, not sure what had changed. Evan grew up in San Jose and loved the bustling bay area. Was he suddenly worried that Mendocino was too out of the way after all? She’d have to make sure that he was comfortable in the beginning. Luckily, he still had his frequent business trips to San Francisco. He could stay an extra week here and there, to catch up with old friends. “Of course I am all right,” she replied lightly. “Look at how beautiful it is, honey. Who cares if the truck and our things are a little late? How can I mind not having a sofa when we have all this?” He drew back, pulling away from her. She dropped her hand on her lap. “Maybe tonight it’ll be a little annoying. But now? Just look at the sea.” She turned to the view and spread her hands to make her point. The cheerful white cottage stood on a sweeping bluff, surrounded by a sprawling garden full of blooming flowers. Beyond the garden twinkled the sparkling Pacific Ocean, with sandy paths running down the bluff to the famous beach that gave the small town its name. “Smell that, honey?” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The sea breeze streaming through Hannah’s open window was sweetly fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle and roses, beach daisies and lavender. But best of all was the wild undercurrent of salt and seaweed, of wide-open blue water and golden sand, of crashing waves and screaming gulls, of foggy mornings and sunbaked afternoons. “It’s gorgeous,” he admitted absentmindedly. 

Hannah was itching to get out of the car. But her husband clearly needed a moment. “It really is gorgeous,” she encouraged him. “We’ll make do until the furniture comes.” “Hmm.” She took another breath. “Right now, all I want is to stand in the garden of our new home and admire the view! Come on. Let me show you everything.” Butterflies fluttered in her belly and tickled her throat as she opened the car and got out. Even though they had to sell their apartment in San Jose to afford the cottage, the house had been cheap compared to other places. The reason for the relatively low price was the seller’s condition that they’d buy the small house sight unseen and in as-is condition. The agent had reassured them that it was only because the owner didn’t want to be disturbed and that the house was in fine condition. Hannah could no longer wait for her husband; she had to stand in the garden right now, just as she had in her childhood. She ran ahead, right into the midst of the colorful riot of blossoms and flowers and petals and leaves. Evan’s door slammed shut, and his footsteps came after her. 

“Hannah. Wait.” The sun was hot on her naked arms and neck as she turned, and she felt radiant with joy and excitement. “Darling, really, I don’t mind. We’ll sleep on the floor tonight, like two young lovebirds who just bought their first house!” Hannah beamed at him. That’s exactly what she wanted—a new beginning. A second chance at love and happiness and togetherness. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept with each other. Two months ago? Maybe three? Evan’s job had gobbled up his time and energy in the last year, and she’d not wanted to add to it with demands for intimacy. Of course, the many years of unsuccessfully trying to conceive a baby had not added joy in the bedroom. It hadn’t been long before sleeping together had become a chore, an item on the to-do list, an embarrassing necessity rather than an act of love. But tonight would be the night when Hannah would be brave. She’d rekindle her husband’s desire once and for all. She held out a hand, blinking into the bright sun. “Shall we go inside and explore our new home?” According to the agent, not much had changed since Hannah’s mother had to sell the house. And Hannah couldn’t wait to show her husband everything, to remember her happy, sunny childhood in this house that she still loved so much. 

Standing between the golden poppies that swayed in the warm sea breeze, Evan ran a hand through his hair. “Hannah.” Hannah shaded her eyes to see him better. He was being weird. “What, Evan?” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “We’re not going inside.” Confused, she dropped her hand. “We’re not? Did you forget to pick up the key from the agent?” “No.” A breath blew up his ribs, and then he exhaled in a rush. “I’m sorry, Hannah.” “Sorry about what?” The joyful butterflies in her stomach dropped like little cold raindrops, one by one. She put a hand to her belly, hating the feeling of anxiety sneaking into her happy new start. “What’s going on?” Evan moistened his lips. “I can’t do this, Hannah. I can’t… I just can’t do it anymore.” “Do what anymore?” The butterflies didn’t turn into raindrops but ice. Her insides froze as the frost glazing her stomach crawled toward her heart, her throat, her voice. “Be with you. I’m done. I’m—Hannah, I’m done. I’m sorry.” “You’re done?” Her words were whispers, whisked away by the breeze before they reached her husband. “I’ve been done for a long time.” He spread his hands to underline his words. “I tried. Believe me, I tried. I wanted this to be the new…but it’s not. And I can’t pretend any longer.” He dropped his hands in a final gesture of giving up. “I want a divorce, Hannah.” 

Divorce. The word echoed around the garden and the sky, bouncing from the tufts of lavender to the cotton puff clouds in the bright blue sky and back. Hannah grabbed at an old rhododendron bough to steady herself in a reeling world. “You want a divorce.” She didn’t need to ask. She knew her husband well enough to know he was serious. “I’m sorry. I guess this comes as a shock. I should’ve… I thought I could make it work. But I have to stop living a lie.” “A lie?” Something like anger curdled in her icy stomach. “Our life is a lie to you?” She knew he meant what he was saying. And yet, Hannah couldn’t believe her ears. “I should have told you before. I understand that, Hannah. I really hoped I could fix this. But I cannot. It’s over.” Hannah didn’t know where to start. After staring at him for too long, she held out her hand. The ice inside her was melting, giving rise to a wave of nausea. 

“Give me the key, Evan. You can go back to San Jose. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Evan took another deep breath. “Well…the house is in my name, Hannah. I bought it with money I earned from working hard at my job. So…I’m the one who is staying. You can go back to San Jose. Take the car and the contents of the missing moving truck.” “I can…what? I can take the car and the furniture?” He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “It’s mostly your books and a few filing cabinets, actually,” he said. “The other furniture is already in the house.” “Why? Why, Evan?” At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he cleared his throat. “You read your little stories to seniors and kids, Hannah,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “For ten years, you’ve mucked around with board books while I worked my pants off to pay the bills. It’s only fair that I get the house.” Hannah blinked. “I mucked around with board books? I’m a librarian, Evan. Even if I didn’t earn as much as you, I worked too.” A year ago, her position had been downsized when funding was cut. But she’d still worked the same hours, volunteering her time to the library and the community. “Go back to San Jose and stay with your friend Amanda until the divorce is sorted.” Defiant, Evan raised his head to meet her eyes...

!!!

Maybe if one’s husband had checked out four years ago—five? eight?—the period of grief after divorce really was just extremely short… 

I had to do it! On April Fool's Day, 2025, I wanted to spotlight both the good and bad of men--the jerk and the friend...

Let me be Honest... This is a wonderful women's fiction of the best kind. The setting is in a small town, where an owner of a bookstore has returned recently after being hurt in the service. He has come back to Mendocino to grieve his father as well as take over as owner of a bookstore that has been in town for decades. But there is a secret that he has carried from his early age that is about to explode back into his life! But first let's talk about the jerk!

May I use an older name for such a man--He's a male chauvinist pig! Just how much so readers will learn throughout this story--one that is simply unbelievable, except that we know it is happening, right now in real life...

No, there are no cats in this story, except that I, a single childless cat lady who is "miserable" being childless according to our VP even though enjoying my life writing about the single worst administration even in the history...of the world... has a cat mother and daughter now preparing for kittens and the first one has gotten as close to me as she can to ensure I'll be around to help her... The mother already knows that... Anyway, think Jerk=Vance LOL BTW, since Vance has a nonwhite wife, with two biracial children, I can't quite figure out how he was picked for VP - Maybe Dark Money!??? What Else?!

So, a little back story, Hannah, who is really the main character, is a librarian by profession. During her early life, she and her mother lived in a beautiful little cottage in Mendocino that had to be sold at one point, but Hannah had always hoped to return and own that same small cottage. She had seen that it was up for sale and immediately began to plan for something she had been dreaming about her entire life. Returning to Mendocino to live... She brought up the fact that it was now available to her husband, Evan, and slowly got him interested... Hannah, and readers will be both shocked when they actually buy the cottage, drive there, and stop in front with Hannah swinging her car door open, wanting to run and just...enjoy! Home!

She never got that far... The Jerk told her, among very hurtful things, that he wanted a divorce...she could have the car...!!! During that last conversation Evan more or less told her, just like Vance, that she was barren, in a job that did not bring sufficient money to the family...and he couldn't take it any more--he had tried!!! At that point, I and most other women will realize that Hannah had no idea just what kind of man she had married. Or, even if she was happy, the very authoritative man who was her husband, had beat her down so badly that she had accepted his disappearances, his long hours, as well as his pulling entirely away from her romantically... She was hoping to start anew in the Cottage...

Instead, looking into Evan's eyes, she knew he was making this decision himself! She got in the car... But she didn't start driving back to where they had lived before... She drove into town, pulled over, and sat crying... She sat there so long that a woman from a restaurant came out, asking if she was alright, and finally getting her into her restaurant, where she started bringing food and drink, telling her it would help...

She had one credit card, but was afraid to check--would there be any money in that account? She told the stranger that she couldn't pay and that, of course, didn't stop her from bringing food... That's what most women do, right? We help other women in distress and pain... She knew even if there was some money in the bank, that she could not afford to stay in a guest room somewhere. Finally, she remembered when she was young and, loving books, she remembered that every Saturday her mother would take her to the local bookstore and they would decide together which book she would get to take home that day... Now, Hannah remember that there was an apartment on the second floor of that store... Could it possibly be available? She had to at least find out or she would have to sleep in her car...

Now you all know me enough that when she opened that front door, it was a fictional God Incident! You see, the owner of the bookstore was now the owner's son, and he recognized "Hannah Banana" immediately. But Hannah didn't recognize the man. Of course, he now wore a patch over one eye which had been scratched by shrapnel... And, of course, she obviously was still in shock from what her jerk of a husband had just done to her! After all, she needed a safe, private place to...just...cry...

And, you are right, she got the apartment on the condition that she would have to clean it and prepare it to be lived in...No problem. That work helped her get through what had happened. At least she was still in Mendocino... And, within a very short time, she had found two new women in her life who also loved books and they planned to start the first book club in town. Actually, the actual reading of a book and discussing never really happened until the very end, because each of these women needed to have another female friend to talk to and they bonded immediately... They shopped together, ate lunches together, and even were there the day that Hannah was to receive an even bigger shock than being asked for a divorce! Seriously, a jerk who lies on top of cruelty and deceit just makes me think of what's happening to women, and others, in America right now! The only thought that comes to mind, again, that I know that God...is...watching...

And, yes, Alex, the Bookshop new owner, may not have been remembered by Hannah, but he soon started making a very favorable impression on Hannah Banana. By the way, there were others in town who soon recognized her calling her by that grade-school name! Hannah was Home! Highly Recommended! Will I continue on with this trilogy? Let me know if you want to hear more in comments below...

GABixlerReviews

“Thanks.” Hannah watched her husband step into the dim store, looking around as if there was something dangerous about the warm, flickering candlelight, the moon shimmer pooling on the old wood floor, the rows of books, and myriad stories surrounding their picnic. “What are you guys doing here?” His smile was as fake as his voice was nervous. “Book club.” Sara crossed her arms. “Why are you here? The store is closed.” He frowned. “Who are you?” Sara raised an eyebrow, ready for battle, when Hannah interrupted. “What do you want, Evan?” He looked at her, and the expression in his eyes became subdued. “Can we talk, Hannah?” “About what?” There was nothing they needed to talk about. It was all clear, brightly illuminated. What he’d done, what would happen next. “In private?” He smiled a smile she used to adore. An eternity ago, she would have done anything for a glimpse. Now, it had lost every last speck of magic. Hannah shook her head. “My friends can hear what you have to say.” A shadow flew over his face and his throat moved as if he wanted to say something, but then he only cleared his throat. “You know, the divorce… I was hoping we could talk about it.”

NOT!

Don't Get Fooled by Liars, Authoritarians and Misogynists!

Especially in Politics!

New babies here...and boy, did I need to help! They were stuck between a book shelf and my computer...! All but one survived--if I counted right 5 new babies...Wow! BTW, Mother of the young kitten who should never have yet been pregnant, heard the new kittens and decided to go outside...too much happening in here! You know, I have to add... Cats are encircled by male cats and they wait turns... We call that rape... Now, with the political climate of today, girls have no protection to that act of power, not love... There should be a difference between animals and male humans, doncha think?!

Gabby

Ruminating On NCIS: Origins Series - Monsoon! They Teach Us How to Kill and Then...(Drop Us Back Home With Nothing But Bad Memories!)

 

More and more writers, either for TV in this case, or books--latest The Devil's Eye, review coming soon... are exploring not just the "What's Happening" within a Story Plot... but the ramifications of the "Why?" And the True Crime behind that Reason... This is the first time I've felt led to write about a television program... That tells you just how much I'm enjoying the Origins series!

I've been more involved in this follow up series branching off the NCIS beginning series than with the many NCIS stories that I and millions of others have watched on television. And enjoyed. But Origins is simply better, in my opinion, because Gibbs is telling the backstory now. Both the "Why?" of it and the resulting Results of War, Violence, Murder, Hatred, and... the...Pain and Sorrow. 

Monsoon explores the lives of war veterans--Vietnam or any other where death occurs under extreme circumstances... And then the vets come home and often are spit in their faces...discarded... They are trained to kill and then expected to readjust in a land where violence is not welcomed... Yet occurs on a daily basis with homeland terrorists. Worse, the Vets are left to find their own way once out of the military. I oppose war and all that it means! In this particular show, Franks (and Gibbs in other shows) is spotlighted as he begins to have flashbacks of his own times of trauma in war and then upon return home... It begins when he meets a vet looking for help--his friend has been murdered and he's trying to have somebody investigate. Franks takes on the case--of course... and is, contrary to how we see him on NCIS, even as a ghost, is tender, caring, giving the murdered man's friend his coat, to keep... He takes him home and his wife makes a delicious homemade dinner for them. And, as Franks' thoughts go backwards as well, we learn the story  of how he  met and fell in love. His wife also offers to helps the veteran begin to clean up by offering that she would help to rinse his hair before he takes a shower. As she sprays the water over his head, he begins to hear guns in the area, the water reminds him of running or escape, or, even, that he was waterboarded. We never learn what triggers his PTSD. But we all see the panic, the horror and the shakes as he tries to come back to where it is safe, at least for awhile...

As the investigation proceeds, one of the pathologists added a poignant statement as they discussed the man who had been murdered... "That man once was a child, a baby that somebody loved. That somebody hated to have him leave his home only to come home to nothing, no help, living on the streets--and now murdered... Just goes to show, this world...is...wacked! (Crazy)

It is not hard to acknowledge that the world has become even worse than in the past--even if some want to go backwards! Folks I know that I talk about these issues maybe more than I should. But just as the vet was taken backwards into his time of turmoil, I find myself doing the same... With a major difference! This time, the danger is for America, our Constitution, and the major part of the world who wants peace!

The story of how veterans have been treated during the many wars around the world is well known. But when we have internalized the characters played on television and care about them, because of the good work they do to help people, to solve crimes, those who have the gift of empathy can't help but worry and wonder about the "Why" of what we see happening in real life... It used to be that I would read books with the good and bad guys involved in some type of mischief, sometimes even deadly. But real life is mild in comparison to what is happening right now... That's why I use videos to document my thoughts and opinions. If I'm wrong, I'm always willing to discuss what I believe... Soldiers and our police work to make our lives secure... Now, major disruption is occurring... Many are fighting back!

Why are there people in America living on the streets, including those veterans who have fought to make the world safe, still in that situation!? Why is there still hunger in America and across the world. Think about it... If there were no need to fight wars, all people, especially in America, would have their basic needs routinely available. So why do wars continue? I found this cute video to make a point, but in an interesting storybook way...

Monsoon. the latest program of the series reminded me that when Jesus was about to be crucified and found Not Guilty by officials at that time, still the religious leaders and most of the people living then, chose to free Barabbas, a known Criminal! Isn't that what we've seen happening from the president and many others now in government?

Note: I've never watched The Chosen One... 

Perhaps one day when America is free of tyranny, I'll take the time...

So We Come to the Why of It, don't we? Over 2000 year have gone by and many choose to free a criminal as opposed to an honest man who speaks God's Truth to His people. (Or, now, vote in a criminal who has been convicted of fraud as well as sexual abuse in the State of New York. 

Yes, that time period may have been set in the land of Jewish families. But realize that many of Jesus' followers did listen and follow Jesus, just like many of different faiths may choose Him... But that is indeed Free Will on all people's part. So again, Why do people choose to refuse help to those in need--to provide food for the hungry, or a home in which to live? Each of us must decide. I used to say good over evil... But I've come to the probable conclusion that evil is not an entity in itself in today's world. Rather, each individual chooses, freely. There may have been or continue to be demons of one kind or another. I've never met one and only see them in movies... So, from what I've seen, the devil really didn't make you do something. We chose to act on our own desires... This, too, has become very visible, as, for instance, two, yes, only two, republicans chose not to accept what Trump was doing to the republican party and chose to fight back... I now see that for the first time in about 10 years, people are choosing not to accept the type of discrimination and ugly hatred that has evolved out of MAGA. 

So where am I going with my thoughts after watching a movie about teaching people to kill and then throw them away without support... Recently I talked with a woman who was pregnant and forced to have a caesarean birth... We talked about hospitalization coverage and I was shocked how quickly coverage was "cut off..." Surely after such an operation that cuts through 7 layers of her body, she will need personal attention as well as for her child...NOT... Hundreds of examples could be added to illustrate just how badly the "individual" citizen had be hurt through lack of concern for all citizens of America...

At this point, all I can go by is that a lot of lives of American citizens are being disrupted by acts now being ordered by the President totally against allocations made by Congress in the past, and totally made by illegal acts that are outside of the scope of the President's authority. I'm not going to make comments about the various things that are happening...these are just a few illustrative videos... My point is that after a first term under Trump, we saw that he did nothing substantive in the way of improving lives for Americans... Biden did and there is much to document those achievements. When an inexperienced individual is placed in charge of the Department of Defense, for instance, with the largest budget, which has already been funded for even more (plus a multi-trillion debt ceiling increase!), I believe there is reason to question how a man incapable of creating his own agenda (and instead merely using the Project 2025 playbook that was written, not by Trump for any part of it, but by those who were NOT elected to work in the Federal Government!) can be acceptable to respond to the needs of All Americans, not just one party!

The volume of actions by individuals who wish for nothing but total control of spending--by now having access/control of the United States Treasury--is beyond belief yet it happened, yet this type of criminality  keeps on happening! America has gone through similar attempts to grab power and control in the past, but have failed... More, importantly, however, is that those who most need financial support are being spotlighted for dismissal, based upon race. 

 

The only thing that keeps me going is to escape into fiction stories to break the extreme tension of seeing our nation under attack from the inside! I've been in Yorkshire for Rick Brady's mystery series... so will be talking about them next!

GABixlerReviews

Go to Hell Ole Miss by Jeff Barry - A Southern Literary Novel - A Personal Favorite for 2024

 

“Start acting right and he’ll take you on a ride sometime,” Pearl said. She winked at Myles. “The back seat has plenty of room for long-legged boys.” Momma, the worst cook in at least one state, came to mind as I wolfed down the world’s best cobbler and watched Myles’s face turn red. Momma swore on the family Bible he could sell condoms to the pope without breaking a sweat. If that didn’t send me from the kitchen at a trot, I’d hear that Myles had the looks of a movie star—Robert Redford was her standard pick—to go with a wallet thicker than King Solomon’s. Sounded sketchy to me, but anything that took her mind off Deddy couldn’t have been the worst sin in the Good Book. 

Big John cleared his throat. “Myles, I hear you liked the Rendezvous.” “Best ribs this side of the Mississippi, Mr. Jackson.” “Son, how many times do I have to remind you to call me Big John?” “Sorry, my parents are sticklers for manners,” Myles said, flashing a line of white teeth that should’ve made Big John think twice about his crooked yellows. Big John pulled a rag from a drawer, wiped at Deddy’s leftovers, and looked my way. “Slide, you’re bound to be tuckered out. Let’s head on up to your room.” Myles glanced at the clock above the back door. “Goodness, Slide. It’s three in the morning. I’ll see you at church in eight hours. Then we’ll have us a time at Big John’s birthday dinner.” 

“I hope so,” I said. Myles put a hand on my shoulder and stared through me with his warm blue eyes. “Your father will make it through this valley. The same God who looks after the sparrows will take care of him.” I’d seen plenty of dead sparrows but nodded anyway. “Meanwhile, lean on this wonderful family of yours. And know you have a friend in me.” 

Myles. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but something about Pearl’s latest suitor was different. From a pat on the back to a corny joke, Myles knew how to make me feel like his best buddy and only brother all bundled into one special package. Pearl wrapped an arm around his waist. “Slide, let’s help my man to his truck. He’s scared of the dark.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever you say, Boo-bear.” Shitfire, Myles wasn’t perfect after all. Baby talk and Boo-bear made a bad mix in my book. We filed through the back door and down the steps to Myles’s pickup. Pearl locked her hands around his neck, planted a long kiss, and slapped him on the bottom as he got behind the wheel. I turned for the house, wondering why the hell I hadn’t stayed in the kitchen. BIG JOHN STOOD BY THE BED as I slid under the covers. He knelt and bowed his head. I wasn’t high on prayer but didn’t mind his. His prayers didn’t ramble from one eternity to another with strange voices and long words other grown-ups thought God made a big to-do over. They didn’t take forever to start either. “You praying or not?” I asked. “Afraid I don’t have it in me tonight.” He grunted to his feet. “I love you, Slide. So does your deddy. Try and get some sleep.” His shoulders filled the doorway as he paused and looked back. 

“Slide, when have you been the happiest? What comes to mind?” “A couch,” I said. “I’m sorry Deddy ruined your birthday.” He walked back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Having you here makes my birthday. You got that?” I nodded. “Now toss me a happy.” A happy? Staying with Big John and Shine would be one. Playing with Annabelle in her puppy days would be another. I was five years old when Santa left her in a kennel under the Christmas tree. We wrestled in the yard the whole summer. By September she could plant her paws between my arms, pin me down with her chest, and go to town with a tongue that felt like worn-down sandpaper and soft-warm butter all at once. “Annabelle,” I said. “Your Annabelle’s quite a dog.” “Best yellow Lab ever. Best dog.” “Course I’m more of a cat person, but—” 

“Nobody’s perfect,” I piped in. Snowball was meaner than a bobcat and would’ve passed for one if not for his long tail and bushy white fur. He liked only one person, and only one person liked him. Big John acted like Queen Elizabeth had honored us with a visit whenever his cat sauntered in from another hunting trip. “You’ll come around,” he said...

~~~

BIG JOHN FORCED HIS OWN SMILE as I crossed the porch. I rocked until I got tired of acting like everything was A-okay. “What was that about?” I asked. He raised a brow that needed a barber. “We can start with damn. Either one.” “Shine’s been slipping a little here lately,” he said. He leaned back, looking me over. “No wonder you’re so bright beyond those fourteen years.” “I’ll be fifteen in four months. Old enough to drive in this state.” “I’d wager it has more to do with your smarts, plus spying on grown-ups, than a driver’s license. How long were you nosing into our bidness?” “Long enough to know you weren’t leveling with me last night.” 

He sipped his coffee. “Not much to it, Slide. A little grown-up talk.” “If it’s okay for grown-ups to lie, why do kids have to tell the truth?” He stared toward the gate like he expected company. Shine rushed out and handed me a steaming cup of cream and sugar. “How’s it going today, Aunt Shine?” I asked, as if I didn’t know. “Fair to middling,” she said. “I’ll let you men enjoy the fresh air while I get ready for church.” Get ready for church? Who needed three hours to dab on some makeup and throw on a dress? Not Shine. Big John started rocking after the door closed. I studied the zipper boots he polished every Saturday night while tapping his foot and humming along to The Lawrence Welk Show. The boots were older than the pants that supposedly fit back in his courting days. “Slide, see my pear trees on the edge of the pecan grove?” “All three,” I said. “My pears’ll be ready for these beauties any day now.” His mouth opened wide to show a set of teeth that was better left hidden. “Lucky for me Deddy couldn’t afford braces when I was growing up in the Great Depression. Those pears are mighty sweet, but they’re hard too. Straight teeth wouldn’t have the angles to cut through those jessies.” “You should get some pointers from Myles,” I said. “On teeth and clothes.” 

He quit rocking. His smile disappeared. “What is it, Big John?” “Myles,” he said. “He seems perfect for Pearl. What’s wrong?” “Nothing like that. What he said about your deddy crossed my mind. Last night, remember?” “I remember how much better Myles made me feel, though I’m not sure about the sparrows.” “He said your deddy will make it through this valley.” “This valley? Add them up and we’re talking the Grand Canyon.” “Have you seen the Grand Canyon?” “What do you think?” “Well, I have, and it’s no match for what Cash is going through. Been through.” “I wish you were my deddy.” “Slide, every kid’s Santa pulls a no-show at some point.” “You haven’t.” “That would be for Pearl to answer,” he said in a way that said coffee-talk was officially over.

~~~

It's been many years since I read a novel from the Southern Literature genre... This story by Jeff Barry is an excellent example. The author chose to move from character to character, by chapter. by Chapter. I found myself, though, caught in the life of a young boy who is just 14 when the book begins. So much so, that I find myself writing as if he drove the book's point of view. You see, this young boy will capture your heart quickly, or at least it happened to me, so I was quite aware of all events as they affected Slide... Yes, Slide is his name--and several other names may seem strange. But, then, if Slide was not happy about his name, then we shouldn't be surprised that Slide agrees with us...

It is 1970 and Slide is where he most wants to be. With his Uncle John and his Aunt Shine. His deddy is home from the war and all he does is sleep and lay around on their couch. Yes, as I am sure you've already guessed. He has PTSD. But all Slide knows is that he's not there for him, even though he's now living with his wife and Slide... In other words, Slide feels no real relationship with his own Father, while his Uncle John is a man who is always available...

Uncle John and Aunt Shine have one daughter, Pearl. She's at the "thinking about marriage" stage which has Uncle John on edge, not knowing what she might get into...

Shall we just say that Uncle John and Pearl have a significant difference of opinion on to whom and when she should consider marriage. Pearl had been involved with a young local who had joined the service, leaving Pearl "antsy" about her future... and spending time at a local bar listening to Black Sabbath...

Enter Miles....

Miles was what you might think of as a southern gentlemen. Once he had met Pearl, Miles soon had brought her back into the church and was thoughtful and giving in all ways... And he was...rich... What more could a Father want?! Miles knew the words to songs and sang louder than Uncle John who was a church deacon... 

Years ago, one of the songs we either sung, or I played, as pianist, was God be With You... But that day at church, Pearl didn't wait for that final song. She needed to get out of there! So, since Slider was staying with Uncle John, he was there when Pearl grabbed his hand and pulled him outside of the church... Opened Miles truck and turned on her kind of music... and sat, moving her arms, dancing as she sat enjoying the music...

Miles was not happy, especially when she made fun of her just missing the last hymn, even referring to him as Daddy*...

Slider was young enough--but old enough--to start questioning exactly what the, supposedly, grownups did... He watched as his father did nothing but sleep on the couch... He was very excited when his Deddy got up and was again a contributing member of the family. He watched as his Aunt began to fail physically and wanted her to always be there in his life. And, he watched Pearl as she seemed to be changing--one day happy, the next day sad or even scared. 

But mostly Slider watched as his beloved Uncle John thought her present special friend was a good match, until... he... wasn't. And had changed when he lost his beloved wife and was now constantly bothered by his daughter's life... Uncle John would rock in his wife's chair, not saying his inner words: He now questioned whether he should even remain as a Deacon of his church... Because he knew of only one person who could clear up the mess that he had brought about.

His brother...

Barry writes like he was sittin' on my front porch swing, lookin' out on my land, as the latest Azalea bush begins to bloom, and starts telling me about the times back in his '70s. I start shakin' my head about how I saw so much of his time then and our time in the present very similar. Seems to me that time wasn't any different than what was happenin' here in the present... It is 'specially hard for we who know Jesus to see His words being said from the mouth of a conman as he wheels and deals tellin' lies to gain favor while his criminal activities are kept secret... and see some who choose to believe the cons... It is indeed a mystery to be solved over and over and over...

This book was published this year, 2024. I was sharing a little with my wonderful caretaker yesterday... The way I see it is that Jesus died for all of us, not askin' much: Just askin' that God be loved above all and that we love our neighbors, setting aside all the rules... Yet 2000+ years have passed and we still have wars, hate, violence... Why is that? I don't know the answer. What I do know is that those who are thinkin' and ponderin' about the wasted lives caused by those who choose, for whatever reason, to, instead, hate their neighbor, are left with such pain because of a loss of a family member, especially children...

But one thing I do know is that when a writer chooses to write this story entwining the PTSD of a troubled soldier with solving a problem that was destroying the lives of others, that writer is seein' exactly what I see. God Bless you Jeff Barry. I loved the way your title was enhanced and expanded upon through your novel. Your characters became so real to me that I found my writing changing to honor the family who I met.  Indeed, your final Author's Note told me exactly what I had known--that the story was based upon a real-life experience... Be assured that this reader felt

exactly what you hoped... That we... can... indeed... hope...

I recommend this fascinating novel for many reasons!

GABixlerReviews

*A side note, the author has used colloquial dialogue, so that when Pearl's father was mentioned, Deddy versus Daddy was used as spoken in the South, I gather...For me, I wasn't quite sure how to say Deddy--deady, dedy with a lone e, or just daddy with a southern drawl...I tried to have it pronounced online and it didn't work... LOL So don't be surprised when reading his novel you'll be stumbling over how to say Deddy--unless, of course, you're from the south and wonder what in the world I'm talking about...

The Resident Agent by David A. Charters - Became Personal Favorite in 2023

 

Semaskis Island, afternoon 

As planned, Carol was upstairs when Slim and his handler arrived. She didn’t see them but could hear them loud and clear through her earbuds, tuned to the Febreze recording device. Bud had placed it on a shelf in the living room when no one was looking. Slim’s voice was a slightly high-pitched wheeze. His handler, clearly the man who referred to himself as Karl, spoke tersely, with a heavy Eastern European accent. She could also hear Bud distinctly, chatting casually as he brought in the sandwiches, fruit, and drinks. Jon was near Karl but said little. Voices were muffled as they ate and made small talk. 

Carol glanced into her makeup bag; the two flashing lights indicated the recorder was catching everything: audio and video. Good. She dropped an extra pair of panties over it to make sure it remained hidden in case one of the goons came by to check on her. With that in mind, she had also transferred her pistol from the makeup bag to her purse, unzipped beside her on the couch. And if the goons decided to check, she could switch her earbuds instantly to a playlist:

 Michael Bublé, Jimmy Buffett, and Shania Twain. “So. Mr. Hayes, please lock the door when you leave,” Karl instructed. “Dr. Endell and I have business to discuss. Harrison, you stay here and run my video camera.” Endell. So that’s his name. Carol heard the door close and the lock click into place. Bud’s footsteps then faded into the kitchen. Osbert opened the discussion. “I promised something earthshaking. Shall I proceed?” “By all means,” Karl replied in a neutral tone. “As you may know, up to now the US has used its satellites only as collectors—for photos, missile detection, ELINT, SIGINT, et cetera. But that is about to change in a big way. ...

“But surely this is impossible!” Karl exclaimed. “One satellite alone would do all of this? For the whole world?” “Oh, no. There would be a constellation of them in geosynchronous orbit, covering the entire globe. And they can be slaved to each other. If the original primary is knocked out, any one of them can take over as primary. We—the US—would need only this one class of satellites, not the dozen or so different types we employ now. The cost savings—from construction to launch vehicles—will be immense. The US could probably cut its overhead reconnaissance budget in half, while gaining capacity it could only dream of a few years ago. Project High Diamond is the future of spying from space, and my company created it!” Holy crap! thought Carol. This is even bigger than we thought. 

Karl responded with as much enthusiasm as his voice allowed. “Thank you. This is obviously of interest to my people, since it has grave implications for our security. So we are grateful that you have brought it to our attention. It serves the interests of peace.” “For a price, of course,” Endell interjected hastily. “Remember?” “Of course, of course. We always honor such arrangements. The funds you requested are being transferred to a bank overseas as we speak. The deposit is inaccessible except by you.” “Good, good. And the girl?” 

“She is waiting for you upstairs. You will be thoroughly entertained, I am sure.” Not if I can help it, Carol thought. Karl spoke again. “But before pleasure comes business. I am impressed by your survey. But of course I am not an expert. Can you provide some additional technical detail on the record that would allow our scientists to test and verify the potential you describe?” “Certainly.” Osbert then launched into an extended monologue that Carol found too complex to follow. It started with AI and autonomous systems, then moved on to multispectral collection, quantum computing and nano-circuitry, self-correcting algorithmics, geomatics, and signal security. Along the way, he described equations and diagrams that he wrote on a flip chart. Carol took a quick look at the video recording as he spoke and got her first glimpse of Slim and Karl. 

She was stunned by Endell’s girth, but even more by the fact that he was speaking without any notes or documents—not even a laptop or tablet. Everything was coming out of his brain. Karl, by contrast, looked like a central casting Rambo wannabe. And from his facial expression and the few questions he posed, it was clear that Karl was well out of his comfort zone... 

~~~

Dare I hint at the climax when I am just beginning to talk about this book, which, in the end, became one of my favorite books... You see, it wasn't the climax, although it definitely was an exciting event, that, in the end, was what swayed my attention... Indeed, it was the rest of the book after that fantastic scene from which I found the real story... One that Carol had been asking about since they had first come together... again...

Weaving in and out of the past and present, readers will hear of the first meeting of the two main characters, Carol, who is now a FBI Special Agent, and a friend she had met very early in her life. He was a friend of her one-time male relationship that ended when she was raped... Bud had cared for Carol, even then, but after what happened, he couldn't bring himself to even contact her. 

Carol had come to care about him, mainly because her boyfriend would be doing something else and Carol would spend time...waiting for him... But it was decades before the time when a case--a murder case--brought the two together again. Bud had been put in as acting detective in the small town law office when a body had been found in nearby New Castle, Maine... When it was determined that the body had apparently been dropped from an airplane, it became an FBI matter... And the two worked the case separately and together.

I wanted to highlight the location because I noticed that the author had worked to enhance the locale through the language of the area's residents. Even though I'd never been there, I'm fairly certain that the writer had achieved the colloquial life in the state. It was fun and interesting to watch the changes, especially as the main character moved into the area.

Also, this book had a scene very similar to one of mine, and, which, I will be writing about next...

Carol Evans was on her way to what she considered was the next step forward in her career. Working in Boston. However, coincidentally, the resident agent for Portland Maine had died, and Carol, having once lived in the state, was being side-tracked (her word, not mine). She was not happy...

Until she realized that she still had feelings for Bud, with whom she would be working the case...

The individual who had been found murdered was a news blogger and he had been investigating how the land was being sold in the area. In fact, he even recorded what happened when he attempted to determine who bought a lone island off the coast of the state. One where he was met by arm guards... Of course, all of this was discovered during the investigation. An investigation whose scope was getting bigger and bigger as more people were identified... 

So…” The band had reassembled, lead guitarist Steve Somers picked out the melody, and their frontman, Vern Zwicker, started to croon Neil Diamond’s Play Me. Bud and Carol listened through the first verse before he said, “So, Special Agent Evans, would you care to dance?” She stood and took his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

* * *

Great mystery, great dialogue, cool romance...and an emotional, memorable ending with a look at an American soldier, captured and tortured while in Afghanistan... Thank you David Charters for not stopping at the usual climatic ending... It was and is important for all of us to realize exactly what each soldier may be forced to endure as a result of working to save our Freedom--Our Democracy, like no other!

GABixlerReviews