Welcome our guest blogger today, Colleen L. Donnelly...ah romance.
Romance
– it’s the rally-for-the-heroine and fall-for-the-hero sort of tale that makes
hearts all over the world go pitter patter. It’s the genre of fiction that
promises we will come away with a smile on our face and a sigh slipping from
our lips.
Romance
– it’s not as messy and it’s far less complicated than the love stories other
genres weave in, sometimes beneath their main plot, where no happy ending is
guaranteed.
Why would
I subject myself to a story where passion may break from what’s comfortable and
spill into the uncomfortable, defy a construction I know will make me happy, and
take me beyond a ripped bodice to the heart that beats beneath it? A heart that
aches to love and be loved, trust and be trusted, or hate and behave despicably
in return? A heart that can choose to forgive – but may not. That has every
reason to stay – but may not. Or that enters into a relationship which seems so
right…yet not.
Because
sometimes the less happy ending makes me breathe a little deeper, haunts me for
days afterwards, draws me into thousands of imaginary arguments with characters
who should have done things my way. Love stories that retain the right to
disappoint reveal the inner throes of loving someone the same way a mirror
reveals my outer beauty as well as my flaws. They force me to take a step
beyond the dream into the reality of loving, hurting, and hopefully healing.
Sometimes the story that doesn’t make me smile is the story I’ll remember.
“Mine
to Tell” is one of those books – Was it adultery that marred the Crouse
family’s reputation for three generations, or merely the accusation of it? Was
it the fact that Julianne Crouse disappeared for two weeks that brought shame
to all of the Crouse family women, or was it the stories told about those two
weeks by others? On the cusp of her own marriage, Julianne’s
great-granddaughter, Annabelle, has to know the truth. Defying her family’s and
fiancé’s wishes, she unboards the house her great-grandfather had sequestered
Julianne to, and searches for her great-grandmother’s story. Alone, at first,
then with the aid of the quiet man down the road she’d ignored when they were
children, and her great-grandmother’s words that begin to slowly trickle in.
Excerpt:
“Mine
to tell,” Kyle said suddenly. It was a jolt. I was yanked from my mental tumble
into a pit of unredemption. Alex looked up too, a quizzical expression on his
face. “Julianne left a story behind,” Kyle continued. “Some of it speculation
and rumors by people who don’t know, and the rest of it by her own hand. It was
a love story. One that was countered with suffering.”
We
were all quiet. I looked at him, my heart melting as I heard his masculine
voice speak of love and suffering. I wanted to lean across the table and hug
him, but I was too afraid.
Alex
leaned back in his chair. “What my father went through didn’t feel like love
when we were little.”
“But
maybe it was,” Kyle persisted, his tone smooth and even. “Does love always turn
out the way we want it to?” Then he looked at me. “Julianne Crouse was a fine
woman. We haven’t finished her story, but she suffered, and she was fine
indeed.”
Tears
came to my eyes. “Thank you,” I squeaked. Kyle stood and walked around the
table to me. He helped me stand as he thanked them for their time. He retrieved
Julianne’s picture, took my hand, and together we went to the door, Alex and
his wife following us.
“I
hope you’re right,” Alex said, running his hand through his thin, brittle hair
as we stepped outside. “My father had some things to come to terms with, but he
was a good man. A better man later in life, when he told us he was sorry. I
never knew for what.”
Other
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Contact
me:
Goodreads: http://www.Goodreads.com/colleenldonnelly
