by Janet E. Clark
Whenever Lucinda Walters experiences tragedy and loss, she knows there's one sure place where she can turn for solace and strength: her Church. She counts on her faith to carry her through when her daughter Rita dies, leaving behind two little boys and a devastated husband with a weakness for alcohol. Lucinda steps in to help her son-in-law Mike O'Donnell raise David and Jack, and as Mike's alcoholism progresses, so does her need for the comfort only her faith can provide. When Father Louis Delanoit offers to spend extra time with Jack, now twelve years old and just beginning altar boy training, Lucinda is honored to have her grandson receive special attention from the priest. But Jack's innocence is shattered when the priest's true intentions are revealed, trapping the boy in a web of silence and abuse, woven by Father Delanoit's manipulation and the blind faith of the community.
Read Chapter One....
Discussion Questions....
Discover the answers to these questions as you are reading Blind Faith
Published By: 1st World Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-4218-9918-3
Pages: 288
Pub. Date: January 2007
Editions:
978-1-4218-9919-0 - Hardcover: $26.95
978-1-4218-9918-3 - Softcover: $18.95
Under the Influence
By Janet Clark
Under the Influence is an unpublished novel I wrote in 2006. For a variety of reasons, I decided not to try to get it published, so it languishes, alone and unloved, in the bottom drawer of my file cabinet. If you are interested in reading it, just shoot me an e-mail and I'll send you the story. It's unpolished, but mostly complete, and it starts like this:
ForwardDoug Kretzky relished his nightly stroll through Pleasant Meadows, the upper-crust subdivision where he had moved after his divorce. A cardiologist, Doug embraced vigorous exercise. He jogged three miles every morning, played tennis and squash whenever he could cram it into his schedule, and took active vacations: last year he had traveled to New Zealand and tramped the West Coast Wilderness, and the year before, he'd climbed to the top of Mount Rainier. This summer he planned to go scuba diving at Santa Barbara. Move it or lose it, he often thought, and every day he saw the effects of a sedentary lifestyle in too many of his patients.
But his evening walk was more about spending time with Dixie than about working out. This was their time, and he guarded it faithfully - only the direst emergency was allowed to supersede it. After all, any girl who loved him enough to tolerate his crazy schedule and all the numerous flaws that his ex-wife had gladly enumerated and expounded on definitely deserved this one small thing. Dixie no doubt deserved a lot more than that, but it seemed to be enough to keep her content - the nightly stroll, a gentle caress, and a steady supply of Milk Bones.
Doug scratched the aging Dachshund behind her ears and attached her leash to her rhinestone-studded collar. She wiggled her behind excitedly and let out a happy "woof" as he opened the door. Dixie showed more exuberance over a six-block stroll than his ex-wife had shown over Caribbean cruises, diamond earrings, and mink coats, he'd often reflected ruefully. But that was water under the bridge. Since their divorce two years ago, Doug's outlook on life had brightened considerably. He really wanted to let all that go and move on - if there was anything more devastating to the heart than a lack of exercise, it was holding on to grudges.
Beside, Doug had to admit he hadn't been an ideal husband, either. His one vice, his only vice, really, was a weakness for the ladies. Over the course of his twelve-year marriage, Doug had had four affairs and numerous brief assignations. He really couldn't blame his ex for being pissed. It seemed the only girl who could command his fidelity was Dixie.
They walked past the Underbergs, crossed the street and continued their peaceful, twilight walk. Their pace was unhurried: Dixie moved a little slower all the time, and she liked to stop and investigate the telltale smells left by all the neighborhood dogs. Doug always cherished this end-of-the day ritual in his quiet neighborhood. By nine o'clock, most of the neighbors were settled in for the night, the lights from their television sets flickering in their windows. At the next corner, Doug paused briefly before stepping out into the street. No cars were in sight except a sporty-looking model*** putzing along more than a block down the road. As they approached the middle of the street, Dixie cocked her floppy ears and whined.
"What's the matter, girl? Spot a cat somewhere?" Doug asked, pausing to see if she had spotted a feline somewhere in the vicinity. Dixie, who never backed down when confronted with a larger dog even when that would be to her advantage, harbored a great fear of cats. But it wasn't a cat that had caught her attention: it was the car, which had sped up as soon as they stepped into the street and now careened wildly toward them. It must have been going 45 miles per hour. Doug, more startled than frightened, bent down to scoop up Dixie and get out of the way, but she yanked frantically and he lost his hold on the leash. The car struck him on his right side, and he went flying in the air for about two feet before he grazed the car's windshield and landed on the ground by the curb.
High-pitched yelps pierced the night's quiet, but Doug lay silent and motionless on the sweet new grass.