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Each card offers recipients ways to draw strength from the goddess pictured. Chronicle Books LLC. Before collecting proof of his crimes, Carrie suffers greatly at the hands of her husband. Still, she finds the strength and courage needed to carry on despite the urging of her friends that she give up and get out. Enter an old love, Gabe Stuttshire, and fireworks erupt. Gabe, having done well for himself since he left their hometown, has everything he ever wanted - except Carrie.

Coming home to find her in peril stirs up old feelings and he becomes a rock for Carrie and the other friends he left behind. After a brutal attack by her husband, Carrie finally escapes with the truth, but so does Jim. He continues to wreak havoc on the little village until Gabe decides that Carrie has to leave town for her own safety.

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And, he has just the place for her to hide out. Learn their connections, secrets and the burdens carried through generations. In this, the first book of the Rough Hewn Trilogy, the Stuttshire and Breckenship families travel from beach to mountains and through hollows to find their paradise in the new world. Oliver Stuttshire has one thing in mind - to make a better life for his family. While working toward that end, he learns the hard way that sometimes, even those closest to you cannot be trusted. Carving a village out of the wild hills of the midsouth, he and his family welcome others whose descendants still live in the old homesteads.

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Murder, secrets and lies abound from the beginning. Family feuds are carried over for generations fed by evil that runs through the Breckenship bloodline. She would only grumble in Basque, under her breath, and Marise would feel her opinion of Americans going down even lower than it was.


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Marise could always feel everybody's opinions as they went up and down. And how she did hate to feel them going down, anybody's about anything! She always tried to fix it so they would go up. She didn't say anything about it to Father. You never did, about that sort of thing, even Maman didn't, although it made her awfully provoked not to have Father care, and she always said a lot afterwards.

Father wouldn't care if it did. There were such lots of things Father didn't care about. But Maman would. She must remember to brush him off before he went to the salon. Marise, coming back from school, used to feel when she opened the door of the apartment, as though she were walking into cobwebs spread around in the dark, and you mustn't on any account brush into any one of them.

Marise looked down at the cahier, its pages as blank as when she had sat down. Her father looked with her. You're not supposed to make any mistakes. And the teachers just kill you if it's not perfectly neat. Father took up the cahier and looked at the paper hard, scratching it a little with his finger-nail. He looked around the room now without saying anything more.

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He spoke in his usual tired, slow voice, sagging down on the bed the way he always sat. But then he surprised Marise very much and said something she never forgot. It gave her such a jump of astonishment to have Father say something as though he really meant it, that she sat up straight at his first words, staring at him. He said in a strong voice, "But look here, Molly, there is something in the air here, by heck, and I wish you'd get it.

I mean the way every one of them in this country keeps right after what he's doing, till he's got it just right. That's the way to do, and we're all off the track with our 'that'll do,' the way we say back in America. It's the only thing in their whole darned country I can see, that don't make you sick.

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Now, look here, kid, you go after it and get it. Start right in now. Learn how to make that infernal note-book perfectly all right in spite of the bad paper. I wish to the Lord I had been taught that. And then, while Marise was still staring, the words echoing loudly in her ears because of the strangeness of hearing them from Father, he went on in his usual voice, "It might be something to hold on to, and I don't see much else.


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Marise had never before known Father in any way to try to "bring her up! Now her little room seemed full of the oddness of his thinking that something did matter, of his telling her so hard that he wished she'd do something. In the loud silence which followed, she could hear his voice and what it said, sinking deeper and deeper into her mind. After a while Father yawned very wide and rubbed his hair forward and back so that it was all rumpled up the way Maman didn't like to see it. She knew how Father hated to have people mix up their languages. He always called the salon the sitting-room.

He added, glancing at her blank note-book, "You haven't got very far, I see.

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It came into Marise's mind that perhaps Father, seeing he was so specially serious to-night, might tell her some way to keep her thoughts from jiggling around so, from one way of feeling to another, according to what other people thought of things, instead of knowing what she thought of things. But she had no chance to ask him, for when she began, "Well, I sort of forgot about my spelling. I got to thinking," Father broke in, as he got up heavily to go, "I wouldn't advise you to do that , either.

It never gets anybody anywhere. Maman wouldn't like that a bit, to have him look untidy when company was there! Oh, dear! But she forgot this as she thought again about the queerness of Father's seeming to care so much about her doing one thing rather than another. It was still there, this wonder at him, when she turned to her book finally to study that spelling lesson. She was going to try to do as Father said. She would take as much trouble with writing those words about a bed, as old Jeanne took [Pg 50] in making the bed every morning; and that was more trouble than anybody in America ever took about anything.

Her dark, shining hair fell forward about her cheeks as she leaned over the copy-book, writing slowly, chewing her tongue, frowning in her concentration on the formation of those letters. She forgot all about her uncertainties as to how things really were; she forgot her loneliness. All her flickering thoughts steadied themselves and grew quiet as she worked. A stillness came over her. She felt happier than she had since they came to France to live.

Later, ever so much later, after she had undressed, washed in the cold water in the little earthen-ware basin, gone to bed and to sleep, the night-time Jeanne tip-toed in to see that she was all right. This Jeanne was very different from all the others, because she was so quiet.


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  8. Marise half-waked up when she felt the energetic French kiss on her cheek Jeanne always kissed you so hard , and as she dozed off again, she heard Jeanne saying a prayer over her, half in Basque and half in Latin. Marise couldn't understand either Latin or Basque, but she understood the intention of that nightly prayer at her bed, and she caught sleepily at old Jeanne to return her kiss.

    Escape into Whiteness

    It wasn't as good as Cousin Hetty's taking you on her lap and putting her arms around you, but it was enough sight better than nothing. Also she heard Jeanne carefully close the window. Jeanne always did this every night, although Maman said to leave it open. Jeanne was the last one in there always so she had it her way.