Let the shadows fall behind you : a novel by Kathy-Diane Leveille

By Kathy-Diane Leveille

"A lady whose existence has been laid low with the disappearances of family reluctantly confronts her family's prior during this enigmatic tale of loss, forgiveness and the ability of friendship"--Provided via publisher.

summary: "A girl whose existence has been stricken by the disappearances of household reluctantly confronts her family's stricken earlier during this enigmatic tale of loss, forgiveness and the facility of friendship"--Provided by means of writer

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She muttered, running her fingers through her hair. Her eyes darted from the highboy to the suitcases on the floor by the bedroom door, where she had dropped them on the braided rug the night before. There was an early morning chill. Brannagh wrapped the knit afghan covers around her shoulders and, rising from the bed, paused to inspect the contents on Gran’s dresser: A statue of the Virgin Mary from which hung various war medals; one round green stone; a copy of Canadian Home Journal dated September 1928: Where is this modern society going?

Brannagh swallowed. Is this how the summer would pass? Waiting with trepidation for the phone to ring to confirm the worst? ” She waited. ” Brannagh felt all the muscles in her body loosen suddenly as if an invisible string running the length of her spine had snapped. indd 34 2/25/09 10:04:05 AM She sank into the chair behind the desk. Bloody hell. But there was no escape hatch, was there? “No, there wasn’t a murder. ” A measured tapping came from the other end of the line. ” Brannagh closed her eyes.

Brannagh swung open the stove door and tossed the note into the fire. It darkened in the corners, crumpled, and burst into flames. One moment her grandfather was there, and the next he was gone. , When Brannagh was eight years old, one of the neighbourhood girls on Argyle Street set up a lemonade stand on the corner. She was a girl who Brannagh especially disliked, not only because she liked to flaunt ringlets that her mother rolled every night, but because she was always the first to point out to the teacher the wastefulness, the uselessness of Brannagh creating a card for Mother’s Day in school when her mother had left town.

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