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Color the Sidewalk For Me (#02 in Bradleyville Series)

Brandilyn Collins

Color the Sidewalk For Me (#02 in Bradleyville Series)

Brandilyn Collins

$18.99

Paperback
The story of Celia Matthews's return home for the first time seventeen years after she fled her harsh, cold mother--this time, it's to help her father after a serious stroke.

- Publisher As a chalk-fingered child, I had worn my craving for Mama's love on my sleeve. But as I grew, that craving became cloaked in excuses and denial until slowly it sank beneath my skin to lie unheeded but vital, like the sinews of my framework. By the time I was a teenager, I thought the gap between Mama and me could not be wider. And then Danny came along. . . .A splendidly colored sidewalk. Six-year-old Celia presented the gift to her mother with pride---and received only anger in return. Why couldn't Mama love her? Years later, when once-in-a-lifetime love found Celia, her mother opposed it. The crushing losses that followed drove Celia, guilt-ridden and grieving, from her Bradleyville home.Now thirty-five, she must return to nurse her father after a stroke. But the deepest need for healing lies in the rift between mother and daughter. God can perform such a miracle. But first Celia and Mama must let go of the past--before it destroys them both.

- Publisher

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About "Color the Sidewalk For Me (#02 in Bradleyville Series)"

The story of Celia Matthews's return home for the first time seventeen years after she fled her harsh, cold mother--this time, it's to help her father after a serious stroke.
- Publisher

As a chalk-fingered child, I had worn my craving for Mama's love on my sleeve. But as I grew, that craving became cloaked in excuses and denial until slowly it sank beneath my skin to lie unheeded but vital, like the sinews of my framework. By the time I was a teenager, I thought the gap between Mama and me could not be wider. And then Danny came along. . . .A splendidly colored sidewalk. Six-year-old Celia presented the gift to her mother with pride---and received only anger in return. Why couldn't Mama love her? Years later, when once-in-a-lifetime love found Celia, her mother opposed it. The crushing losses that followed drove Celia, guilt-ridden and grieving, from her Bradleyville home.Now thirty-five, she must return to nurse her father after a stroke. But the deepest need for healing lies in the rift between mother and daughter. God can perform such a miracle. But first Celia and Mama must let go of the past--before it destroys them both.
- Publisher

Meet the Author

Brandilyn Collins

Brandilyn Collins, known for her trademark "Seatbelt Suspense", is the bestselling author of Eyes of Elisha, Brink of Death, Dead of Night, Web of Lies, Violet Dawn, and many other exciting novels, most recently Coral Moon. Her fast-paced, character-driven crime thrillers weave unpredictable plots with the message of God's grace and power. Brandilyn has also written a distinctive book on fiction-writing techniques, Getting Into Character: Seven Secrets a Novelist Can Learn From Actors. Between writing novels, she teaches the craft of writing at writers' conferences.

Excerpt

Excerpt from: Color the Sidewalk For Me (#02 in Bradleyville Series)

The boxes are heavy, their rough rope handles cutting into my palms. A frayed purse weights my weary shoulder. Heat shimmers from the fuel-spotted asphalt, stifling humidity wrapping greedy fingers around my throat. The squat, gray building seems so far away, and my legs are wobbling. Others move ahead of me as we file from the bus into the station. I breathe deeply, lungs filling with roiling air. My head feels light. Detaching itself from my body, it begins to float. Somewhere below are my arms, the boxes, my stumbling feet. 'Ye shall find rest unto your souls, 'I mumble, half dazed .'Ye shall find rest ...' And then the building looms before me. The door opens. My head drifts over the threshold. Distantly I survey the interior. Three people are in line to buy bus tickets; others dot plastic orange chairs as they wait. Two children are squabbling at a vending machine. I try to remember what I am looking for. The door closes behind me. Air-conditioning slaps my cheeks. I shiver. Numbness chews away my feet, my legs. Vaguely I feel my fingers loosen, the boxes fall away. They hit the dusty tile floor with a clunk. Two women are watching me. I see the questions on their faces, feel their stares. The world dims .My knees fold. For a time there is only blackness ... Muffled voices above me. Faces out of focus. 'Poor child, she 's exhausted from the heat.' 'And probably hasn't eaten.' 'Go get her a candy bar.' Footsteps hurrying away. The scene undulates, reshaping itself. I am in a cab, then a hotel room. So sterile, heartless. The bed beckons me. I stagger to it and collapse. The walls close in. I suck air and my throat rattles. 'Danny, 'I whisper. 'Kevy.' After all the miles and all the running, the tears finally flow. 'Oh, Danny ...Danny ...Kevy ...' A gurgle in my throat yanked me to the present. My eyes blinked open. Morning sun sifted through my white lace curtains, dusting the bedcovers with flecks of gold. One of my cats stretched beside me, surveying me with lazy indifference. Ye shall find rest unto your souls .God 's promise to Granddad that he tried to pass on to me. I lay very still, allowing my mind to adjust, as I always did after the dream. I forced myself to breath deeply until my tingling nerves settled. Staring at the ceiling, I reflected that I 'd not had the dream in a long time. Perhaps a year. Not that it mattered. Out of the many mages from the past that capriciously filled my head at any given moment, this one was the least to bear. I swallowed, passed a hand over my eyes. Glanced at the clock. Six- thirty. My alarm would go off any minute. I reached out to turn it off. Not until I 'd pulled myself from bed did I remember what day it was. Friday. My thirty-fifth birthday and my employment anniversary. Exactly ten years ago I had joined the creative team of Sammons Advertising Agency. Ten years . I stepped into the shower and stood under hot water, letting it wash away the residue of my dream as the scent of lavender soap flowed around me. If only it could wash away the stain on my soul as well. Fifteen minutes later I was dressing, still pushing away the memories, as I 'd done countless times in the past seventeen years. It was a well-honed defense, this distancing from myself. On automatic, I donned a cornflower blue business suit that matched my eyes, brushing my shoulder-length blond hair. With smooth skin and a natural blush to my cheeks, I needed little makeup. I knew people thought me beautiful. Not that it mattered. By the time I was ready, my thoughts were in place, wrenched from the tragic past and firmly wedged into the present. Mentally I went over my schedule for the day. As typical, it was overloaded with clients to please and coworkers to supervise. But the day did promise a new event, something I knew I 'd never forget. My 'surprise ' party. A few days before, I 'd been walking down the hall toward the lobby when I overheard Monica, our young receptionist, scheming with our business manager about 'how to keep Celia away from the conference room while it 's being set up.' I almost rounded the corner and asked, 'Set up for what? 'when I heard further discussion about a cake and whether it should have thirty-five candles for my age or ten for my years with the firm. I 'd stopped in my tracks, scarcely believing it. They were planning a surprise birthday-anniversary party ---for me .I 'd never imagined anyone doing such a gracious thing. For a moment I 'd just stood there as the realization sank in. Then I quickly faded back down the hall the way I 'd come. Not for the world would I let them know that I 'd overheard. Only later when I was again at my desk did I further realize whose idea the party must have been. Neither Monica nor our office manager had been around long enough to know when I started working with the firm. Only Quentin Sammons, owner of the agency, would have reason to remember that date. The thought that Quentin, busy as he was, would take time to honor me left me feeling all the more humbled. He was truly as much a friend as he was my boss, and our admiration for each other was mutual. Quentin Sammons 'agency was n its twenty-seventh year and was one of the most prestigious advertising firms in Little Rock. I had joined the firm as the lowliest of employees and had risen to an account executive. Not only was I more than capable at coming up with ideas and creating visuals; I also had a 'way with words, 'as Quentin put it --- a knack for painting a picture verbally. How ironic that the same glib tongue that had earned Mama 's wrath so often when I was young would help earn my living now.

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Product Details

Product Details
  • Catalogue Code 171800
  • Product Code 0310242428
  • EAN 9780310242420
  • UPC 025986242428
  • Pages 384
  • Department General Books
  • Category Fiction
  • Sub-Category General
  • Publisher Zondervan
  • Publication Date Mar 2002
  • Sales Rank #18596
  • Dimensions 215 x 141 x 25 mm
  • Weight 0.399kg

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