Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Laurie Beach’s new release: Christmas on Goose Island
What if you woke up knowing the exact date and time you would die?
Dorothea Boone is no sissy. She knows full well that her amateur prognostications aren’t always spot-on, but this one has her reeling—especially since it was clear that she might drop dead early Christmas morning. So, when John Stanley enters her life, she doesn’t know whether to run toward him, or sprint away as fast as she can.
She’s supposed to have half of her life left to figure things out. Which means she absolutely cannot leave Earth while she still has a strong sense that something is missing. But what is it? Is it the fact that she’s been closed-off to men since her surprise unwed pregnancy? Or that her children are all off living their own lives without her? The uncertainty of her life stirs up old memories and mysteries from childhood that have her spinning.
So when Christmas approaches and John is determined to make sure she sticks around, will she allow him in? Or will she simply let fate take its course?
Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Christmas on Goose Island
Chapter One
The first time Dorothea Boone had an out of body experience was when she found out she was pregnant by Trigger Warter right after his wedding to Cornelia. For a woman who was as solid as the earth itself, the feeling of floating above her own body, looking down on it like she was merely an outside observer, was as shocking as the doctor saying, It appears as if you’re nearly two months along.
That was twenty-four years ago.
Now, for the second time in her life, she’d left her body behind and felt absolutely nothing as she watched a middle-aged woman called Dottie continuously repeat the word dammit while muttering much stronger curse words under her breath.
At least the first time she’d disassociated, things had worked out well. Trigger bought her silence with a home and a food truck, and she got her sweet daughter, Carolina Jessamine, all to herself. But there was no way her current situation would end well. Salty Dot’s food truck was totaled thanks to traffic and a distracted hard-braking pickup in front of her. The loud, crushing chain reaction would remain seared in her mind forever. She rear-ended that pickup seconds before the semi behind her rammed smack into her blue and yellow livelihood so hard that metal bent and split around her. Where there was once a comfortable foot or so between herself and the steering wheel, there was now barely room to expand her lungs. It was good that she’d managed to stay in her lane. If she’d tried to swerve onto the shoulder, that semi might have launched her off the Ravenel Bridge and straight into Charleston Harbor.
The people who had just minutes before been in their vehicles were now congregated near the railing in all states of distress. The tall man who drove the semi was silent in his trauma, busy texting somebody—probably his employer—and the distracted teenage boy in front of her sat hunched on the ground crying, as he should be. Dottie Boone, in her bright yellow sweatshirt, wrenched herself out of the front seat and immediately went to work making sure everyone was okay. Once she determined there were no broken bones or head injuries, she attempted to soothe them with reminders that no one was hurt and that vehicles could be replaced. She was even gracious enough to comfort the crying young man, even though she was certain he’d been texting when he caused the accident.
Everything was okay. This, like all of the other bad luck in her life, could be overcome. She was fine.
But deep inside, Dottie knew better. She’d been devastatingly hurt. Not physically, aside from what would surely be a sore neck in the morning and some bumps and bruises, but life as she knew it was now over. Losing her vehicle meant losing her only source of income. Salty Dot’s food truck lay before her like the loser in a demolition derby. Even her name, once beautifully painted in blue curlicues on the side, was so twisted and distorted that the letters now read SADOT. Yes, she was indeed Sad Dot.
Never before had she felt so alone. Both of her daughters were out of her house and happy with their significant others. Heck, even her brother now had a wife. Whoever she reached out to for help would have to leave their job, explain to their partners what happened, and drive out to rescue her. She was nobody’s number one priority; no one’s partner in life. And she hated asking for help.
The scary part was that the older she got, the more she was going to have to ask for it.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need to see your license and insurance information.” The deputy’s face showed no emotion, no compassion.
The fact that he looked to be somewhere near her age and still managed to make that ridiculous uniform look like a well-tailored suit, made her even more furious. Why didn’t law enforcement wear breathable T-shirts and running pants? That would make more sense than a stupid button-down shirt with a collar.
“Why don’t you go on ahead and ask that young man over there? He was the one who slammed on his brakes and caused this thing.” Dottie swiftly turned away from him.
Now that she’d ensured everyone was okay, tears threatened and stung behind her eyes. It was classic Dottie—handle the problem, then fall apart afterward.
“Ma’am, I have already obtained his information.” The deputy was persistent, but she really needed him to go away.
“Then ask that other driver—the one in the semi.” Her voice was getting high-pitched, so she rubbed her eyes like she was tired and tried to shake it off.
His voice remained in the same, even tone. “I have. Ma’am, you really need to be more careful when you’re on the bridge.”
“How about saving the lecture and giving me a minute to get my wits about me.” She walked away from him again, wishing she wasn’t wearing her neon-yellow sweatshirt with smiling orange sunshines all over it.
It was too friendly for her current mood. How about backing off, you jerk. It wasn’t my fault.
He followed her. “Ma’am, I’m trying to get you out of here as quickly as possible. I need to know if you have insurance on this vehicle.”
She turned to face him and felt a surge of something hot. He was now much closer to her than he’d been before. His eyes were so blue that her mouth went tight and her brain went blank—a strange thing considering Dottie was never, ever short of words. Her body hadn’t reacted that way to a man in twenty years.
“Of course I do,” she finally spat. “Why don’t you go lookin’ in the glove box instead of harassing me about it.”
“You’re giving me permission to search your vehicle?”
She nodded. “You’ll find all of the papers you’re looking for and if you’re lucky, there might be something for lunch. Help yourself. You’ll be the last person I feed for a long time.”
Dottie had been going to the Goose Island pond since she was a barefoot five-year-old with no rules or supervision. It teemed with interesting things, and she would spend hours listening and observing. If she sat still long enough, finches, cardinals, and even woodpeckers would come close enough to hear the scratching of their feet and the clicking of their beaks. Eventually, with time and patience, the turtles would come too. Usually, the larger turtles would lazily paddle over first. The big ones had lived as a food source for the alligators long enough to know sadness when they sensed it. And sadness was what always brought her to the muddy edge.
On that chilly, overcast day, grown-up Dottie needed to feel grounded, so she sat on a patch of grass and waited, trying to pick out something positive from all of the bad that had happened that day. She was still alive, so that was good. Sort of.
It was the babies who swam to the shallows to watch her, their heads and the tops of their shells peaking above the water. There were two of them—yellow bellied sliders—about the size of a baseball.
Dottie smiled down at their tiny triangular heads. “How y’all doing?” There she was, in her early forties, still talking to turtles.
“Here’s something I’ve been thinking about.” She leaned forward like they’d already been in conversation for hours. “You know those folks who’ve got dirty old toys all over their yards? You seen them? The ones with rusty metal swing sets, old pickups, or a John Deere they never got around to fixin’?” She waited for the turtles to show some sign of comprehension.
Neither of them moved.
“They’re not bad people, you know. It’s just that things happen. And sometimes, those folks have got so many dreams that they can’t keep up with them all.” Dottie rubbed her swollen eyes and noticed a new stiffness in her shoulders. “I had a dream once. I wanted to feed people. I got to do it too. And I was good at it.”
One of the little turtles wiggled its legs enough to turn around and disappear beneath the brownish water. But the other one stayed with its neck stretched forward in rapt attention.
“Do you have dreams?” She waited a good long beat as if the turtle would answer. “Mine just died in the middle of the road.” Her own words had a shock-like effect that ran like electricity through her veins. “What am I gonna do now? Every danged thing in my life is going to ruin, and I’m getting too old to do anything about it.”
The turtle stayed perfectly still, one beady eye trained on her with curiosity. A series of bubbles escaped from underneath its shell.
“Oh, hush,” Dottie said. “I’m allowed to feel this way. Some days I swear I’m nothing more than an old pile of leaves waiting for someone to light a match and send me on my way. My hair is falling out, and I’ve got wrinkles on my forehead.” She furrowed her brow toward the water. “See. I look like I’m judging folks all the time. I mean, I am judging them. But they shouldn’t be able to tell it by looking at me.”
It was so still and peaceful at the pond that she could hear the rustle of bird feathers from high up in a tree and the tiny ripples caused by turtle feet pushing aside the water. “I’m telling you, something happens at my age and all of that loud, running around, crying, laughing, living-life-together stuff that I’ve had with my kids all of these years is quiet now. It’s kinda like right here at your pond. I have to pay attention if I want to hear it.”
The buzzing of her phone nearly knocked her over. As peaceful as a pond could be, where there was water in South Carolina, there were sure to be alligators.
“Lordy, Tulip,” she said after seeing her youngest daughter’s name on the screen. “You about sent me to my grave. What? What is it?”
“Mama, I have news.”
“Let me guess.” She stood and wiped the dirt from her behind, giving a short wave goodbye to the turtle, who had already disappeared. “Mason is up for an Academy Award.”
“He wishes. No, better.”
“Huck’s Strange Pairings is opening another location.”
“No. Gawd, Mama, I can’t handle more than one store, and where would I ever find another shack in a graveyard near enough to Charleston to get the tourists? There’s got to be only one in the world. No more guessing, I’ll just tell you.”
“Hold up. I’m not done.” Dottie found the tiny pathway through the woods that led to the marsh. She would follow the water down to her property and then hike up to her house. “Let’s see now, Maisy is moving back to California.” Dottie couldn’t help but take the opportunity to mess with her daughter.
“Mama! You know as well as I do that the Lowcountry is the best thing that ever happened to Mason’s little sister.” Tootie groaned with frustration. “Enough with the guessing.”
“I already know what you’re gonna say,” Dottie said. “I had a vision a few days ago. I put my hands in the dirt to pull a weed, and the soil told me.”
Dottie’s prognostication was another reason why losing her truck that morning was especially stressful—there was no way she was going to be able to afford to help with a wedding.
“I’m engaged!” Tootie said it happily, but Dottie knew she’d stolen her daughter’s thunder.
Dammit. Sometimes she needed to keep her big trap shut.
She stopped walking so the crunch of the winter leaves wouldn’t compete with the moment. “My sweet baby Tulip is marrying a movie star. Well, I’ll be.”
“That’s not the best thing about him, you know. It’s just his job.”
“I know, I know. But it sure is fun to tell folks.”
“Jessa took some great pictures. I’ll send them to you.”
“Your sister was there?”
“Yes, Mama. We needed pictures for his social media, and she’s family, so it seemed right.”
“Well, if that ain’t like shooting me point blank in the center of my heart. You had your sister out there in California and I didn’t even know she was gone?”
“Mason surprised me by flying her out, Mama. I didn’t know it was happening either.”
“Well, then why didn’t Mason tell me? Last time I checked, that boy had a working mouth.” Dottie sighed loudly. “And my own Carolina Jessamine couldn’t bother herself to tell me neither.”
“It was a secret, Mama. Jessa had to keep the secret.”
“Fine. Fine, then.” She sighed loudly. “I see what you’re saying. Y’all think I can’t keep a secret.”
“I’ll send you the video.”
Dottie mumbled, “That’s all I get? A video?”
What did it even mean to be a mother anymore? Her own daughter didn’t take the time to tell her about one of the biggest days of her life? Nobody gave a lick about all the years of Dottie’s sacrifices. They had their own lives, and she was going to have to accept that she had been stuffed into a small corner of their world along with unwanted spiders and rat traps.
She raised her voice to a more audible level and said, “Fine. Send me the video.” Dottie hung up without saying a word about the accident.
It was clear that her life was her problem and no one else’s.
Excerpt. ©Laurie Beach. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
Giveaway: An ebook copy of CHRISTMAS ON GOOSE ISLAND + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice
To enter Giveaway, please share this post on your Socials and Leave a comment below to this Q: What did you think of the excerpt spotlighted here? Leave a comment with your thoughts on the book…
🎉 Giveaway Rules 🎉 ✨ Must be 18 years or older to enter. ✨ MUST leave a comment answering the giveaway question. ✨ Bonus Entry:Share this post on your social media (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram) and drop a comment below letting me know you've shared it. ✨ Winner(s) will be selected at random. ✨ No purchase necessary—just enter and cross your fingers! ✨ If you win, I'll need your full name and mailing address to send your prize. This information will be shared with the author, publisher, or publicist solely for prize fulfillment purposes. ✨ Giveaway closes 3 days from the date this post is published.
Meet the Author:
Laurie Beach is a former news reporter, advertising producer, and political press secretary who, after raising children, is parlaying her love of reading and writing into a career as an author. She is a sucker for elderly people, furry animals, and all things chocolate. Having grown up in Alabama, she loves novels set in the South. Laurie now lives in Colorado with her husband, herds of elk, and the occasional bear.
https://tulepublishing.com/books/christmas-on-goose-island/#order
Please leave a comment