I am a Christian, a retired teacher, a mother and a grandmother. I love to read and I love the Lord Jesus Christ! Unless otherwise specified ,all visual illustrations are from the YOU VERSION APP of the Bible.
Minerva Jane Jenkins has spent her entire married life in the mountains of Kentucky, surviving but not thriving. Her husband Stately made her promise him to keep a secret and in keeping that secret, she has isolated herself from the rest of the world. Then a young reporter named Del Rankin comes along and turns her safe shelter upside down with his revelations about the past and his hope for her future. This is a book that left me emotionally drained as I identified with poor Minerva and her profound faith and determination to keep a promise no matter the cost to herself. The characters are fascinating and richly developed, with authentic dialogue from Appalachia and authentic details about survival there. This is a well-crafted story with multiple layers and a thought-provoking look at accepting and forgiving others. I really enjoyed the southern flavor of this tale and the down-home goodness of Minerva even when she was sorely wronged. As she is approaching what she knows will be the end of her days, she continues to keep her promise to her husband but she also finds a love that she never realized she had missed so much. The story is captivating, original and gut-wrenching at times as Minerva faces the truth of her past and grasps a future that is all too short because of her advanced age. I enjoyed the feel of community when the people rallied around her and I really liked the character of Del and what a dynamic person he was. He came for one purpose and stayed for another higher one, making him remarkable and believably lovable. I also liked the homestead itself that became like a character on its own, with its broken doors and kudzu vines that took over part of Minerva’s land. Finally, I liked getting to know the heart of Minerva and what made her keep a promise for so many years, how much she loved her dog Satchel and how much love she had to give to others. This story of redemption and hope is filled with inspiration and is an eye-opening look at how the elderly should be revered and cared for. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
When Minerva Jane Jenkins was just 14 years old, she married a man who moved her to the mountains. He carried with him a small box, which he told her was filled with gold. And when he died 50 years later, he made her promise to keep his secret. She is to tell no one about the box or the treasure it contains.
Now 94, Minerva is nearing the end of what has sometimes been a lonely life. But she’s kept that secret. Even so, rumors of hidden gold have a way of spreading, and Minerva is visited by a reporter, Del Rankin, who wants to know more of her story. His friend who joins him only wants to find the location of the gold. Neither of them knows quite who they’re up against when it comes to the old woman on the mountain.
As an unlikely friendship develops, Minerva is tempted to reveal her secret to Del. After all, how long is one bound by a promise? But the truth of what’s really buried in the box may be hidden even from her.
My Thoughts
Minerva Jane Jenkins has spent her entire married life in the mountains of Kentucky, surviving but not thriving. Her husband Stately made her promise him to keep a secret and in keeping that secret, she has isolated herself from the rest of the world. Then a young reporter named Del Rankin comes along and turns her safe shelter upside down with his revelations about the past and his hope for her future. This is a book that left me emotionally drained as I identified with poor Minerva and her profound faith and determination to keep a promise no matter the cost to herself. The characters are fascinating and richly developed, with authentic dialogue from Appalachia and authentic details about survival there. This is a well-crafted story with multiple layers and a thought-provoking look at accepting and forgiving others. I really enjoyed the southern flavor of this tale and the down-home goodness of Minerva even when she was sorely wronged. As she is approaching what she knows will be the end of her days, she continues to keep her promise to her husband but she also finds a love that she never realized she had missed so much. The story is captivating, original and gut-wrenching at times as Minerva faces the truth of her past and grasps a future that is all too short because of her advanced age. I enjoyed the feel of community when the people rallied around her and I really liked the character of Del and what a dynamic person he was. He came for one purpose and stayed for another higher one, making him remarkable and believably lovable. I also liked the homestead itself that became like a character on its own, with its broken doors and kudzu vines that took over part of Minerva’s land. Finally, I liked getting to know the heart of Minerva and what made her keep a promise for so many years, how much she loved her dog Satchel and how much love she had to give to others. This story of redemption and hope is filled with inspiration and is an eye-opening look at how the elderly should be revered and cared for. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Many thanks to Revell and to the author! I had the privilege of being on her launch team and received an early ARC from Revell via Netgalley, also. What a blessing to read and review this amazing and insightful book!
Author: Katie Garner On Sale June 27, 2023 Publisher: MIRA Paperback Original ISBN 978-0778334453
Book Summary: “Disarmingly sensory, with plot twists that are sure to give readers whiplash, Garner has done a phenomenal job of giving us just enough information to think we know where the story is going, only to pull the rug out from under us—over and over again. A nail-bitingly spectacular debut!” —Amanda Jayatissa, author of You’re Invited Finding the truth seems impossible when her own dark past has her seeing lies everywhere she looks… From the outside, criminal psychiatrist Dr. Madeline Pine’s life appears picture-perfect–she has a beautiful family, a successful mental health practice and a growing reputation as an expert in female violence. But when she’s called to help investigate a mysterious death at a boarding school for troubled girls, Madeline hesitates. She’s been through tragic cases before, and the one she was entangled in last year nearly destroyed her… Yet she can’t turn away when she hears about Charley Ridley. After the girl was found shoeless and in pajamas at the bottom of an icy ravine on campus, the police ruled it a tragic accident. But the private investigator hired by her mother has his doubts. And if it were Madeline’s daughter who died, she’d want to know why.
Arriving at the secluded campus in upstate New York, Madeline’s met by an unhelpful skeleton staff and the four other students still on campus during winter break. Each seems to hold a piece of the puzzle. And everyone has secrets–Madeline included. But who would kill to protect them? Intertwining the narrative with the transcript of an anonymous interview, this stunning suspense debut from Katie Garner will take you on a twisting path where nothing–and no one–is what it seems.
My Thoughts
The story of a teen who dies at her private school campus is completely mesmerizing, as the story weaves from one deceptive character to another and I tried to guess who was being honest. Dr. Madeline Pine’s life is falling apart, with her husband leaving and taking their daughter Izzy with him. So when private detective Matt requests her assistance in finding out what happened to the deceased student, she accepts the invitation and is drawn into a dark and mysterious world where even the school has secrets. The characterization was spot on for the eerie atmosphere and the mystery was twisted with lots of clues being painstakingly revealed slowly. The book got increasingly creepy as more secrets were revealed and was breathtakingly complex. This is in intense, intriguing story that challenged me to figure out the mystery as well as who was trustworthy among the cast of possible suspects. It is an edgy and remarkable debut novel that is tightly plotted and well-crafted with multiple layers. The surprise ending was shocking and well as thought-provoking; it’s a kind of “wait for it” book that had me guessing incorrectly all the way until the end. I will definitely look forward to more from this author! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated M for mature audiences. Includes violence, language, and psychological twists that could be disturbing.
About the Author
Author Bio: Katie Garner was born in New York and grew up in New Jersey. She has a degree in Art History from Ramapo College and is certified to teach high school Art. She hoards paperbacks, coffee mugs, and dog toys and can be seen holding at least one of those things most of the time. Katie lives in a New Jersey river town with her husband, baby boy, and shih-poo where she writes books about women and their dark, secret selves. The Night It Ended is her debut novel.
Excerpt
Friday, December 16 I’m speeding home when the phone rings, persistent and angry, demanding to be heard. I know I should answer it, even though I want nothing more than to throw it out the window. I could let the call slide into voice mail, delete it, never hear the voice on the other side. But I can’t. I jerk to the side of the icy road to a chorus of blaring horns, dig the phone out from the cavernous tote bag resting on the passenger seat beside me. The phone is sleek and black, brand-new—opposite of the cracked, chunky white one I’m used to shoving in my back pocket. A sweet little chime and the ringing ends. 1 new voice mail. Quickly, I glance in the side mirror. Car exhaust melts away into the morning winter sky. Nothing is behind me, nothing but air. I exhale a deep sigh of relief, press the phone to my ear. “H-hi, this message is for Dr. Madeline Pine—” A siren wails in the distance. The phone slips through my fingers, lands mutely in my lap. A knot swells in my throat. I glance in the side mirror again, feel my heart pound, each breath shrinking to tiny gasps. The sirens near. An emergency vehicle speeds past. It’s only an ambulance. My body wilts. I take a deep breath. In. Out. The knot in my throat loosens. I hate the person I’ve become. I’ve never been this nervous, this afraid, anxiety and fear clinging to my every move. I wish I could escape—step into someone else’s life, if only for a moment. Just twelve short months ago everything was different. I was different. Any other December, I would’ve been home, prepping for the holidays, shopping online for last-minute deals on things none of us needed. My husband, Dave, would be staying too late at work, his dinner wrapped in a blanket of aluminum foil, kept warm on the stove. My teenage daughter, Izzi, would be upstairs in her room, scrolling noiselessly through her phone, feet kicked up on the bed behind her. The house would’ve hummed with the steady softness of disjointed home life, but instead here I am, lurched to the side of the road, the air frigid in the tiny cabin of my car, listening to a voice mail I never thought I’d hear. I replay the message: “H-hi, this message is for Dr. Madeline Pine. If you get this, I’m Matthew Reyes, a private investigator working on behalf of a family. Listen, I was hoping you could please call me back at this number, I—I’d really appreciate it. We have a sixteen-year-old female who died on school property. The police believe it’s an accident, but the mother hired me to be sure. The girl was found at the bottom of a hill. No witnesses. I thought you might be able to help—given your expertise. Please call me back. Thanks.” I repeat his words in my head. The girl was found at the bottom of a hill—I can picture it, picture her. She’s there, fallen sideways, her body splashed across the woodland floor. Moss and stones, skin and blood, leaves and twigs. I don’t know her, but I don’t have to. I already feel as if she were mine.
The man who left the voice mail, Matthew Reyes, has a voice both gravelly and weary, and I know what he wants the moment he mentions the school. Police often believe they can demand anything they want and get it immediately—even psychological evaluations—but it takes time to gain trust from strangers, and even more time to tease out the truth. Especially from teenage girls. I start weighing my options. I’m not sure I’m capable of this, of anything. Especially after last year…especially after what just happened in that too-hot office during this morning’s disastrous therapy session. My face flushes at the memory of the woman who’d been sitting cross-legged in front of me. Her beautiful face. Her pink silk shirt blurring out of focus. Her condescending tone—as though the therapy sessions weren’t all for her benefit to begin with. That’s what I have to remind myself. That’s what I have to hold on to. They’re for her. Not me. I’m the one who’s fine. I should be taking comfort in that, taking comfort in the fact that I never have to see her beautiful face again, never have to be reminded of— It’s over. I didn’t have a choice before. Now I do. I have lots of choices. An avalanche of choices. My life before today was preprogrammed for me. Not anymore. I fixed it. Tears slip down my cheeks. I bite them back, strangle the phone in my lap, squeeze it so tight I wonder how it fails to snap in two. Choices. Possibilities. My mind whirls as I punch the gas, merge into traffic, race home. I run inside, slam the door, bolt the lock. Gazing around my gloom-infested house, I shrivel back as wind blows branches of a nearby tree, scraping the side of the house like fingernails. Peering at the bulging paper bag of prescriptions on the kitchen island, my eyes prick with tears. My glasses fog. I take them off, rub the lenses clean on my turtleneck. After so many months, the pills should be working. I should stop taking them altogether. Just throw them all in the toilet, flush them down, watch them whirl around the porcelain bowl. I think of words my daughter, Izzi, said to me: Mom, please just stop. Stop. I don’t know the person I’ve become, too empty, too full, all at once. I need to change. I want to be different. Every day, I think of ways I can be. It can still happen. I’m free now. I have choices now, possibilities. Maybe it’s never too late to change everything. Maybe I just need to escape. Besides, wiggle room is all it takes for a snake to get out of its skin. The phone rings again. I snuff the urge to hurl it across the room before glancing at the screen. It’s the same number as before. The same number as the voice mail. I hold my breath and answer. “Hello?” “Hello—is this Dr. Madeline Pine?” “Um—yes. It is.” My heart thuds. “Who’s this?” A sigh of relief, deep and heavy, into the phone. “This is private investigator Matthew Reyes. Thank you so much for answering, Dr. Pine. I—I know it’s a chaotic time of year and you’re probably busy with family but…would you be able to make a trip up to Iron Hill?” “I—I don’t know where that is.” “It’s about two hours north of Poughkeepsie. Upstate New York.” “Right, okay.” Far. Very far. Too far for my ailing car to make it. I know I should just buy a new one, but I can’t. My husband Dave always said the color perfectly matched my eyes. Now I can’t even remember the last time we looked at each other. “So, are you busy this weekend?” Reyes asks, then pauses. “I mean, you’re sure you don’t mind ditching your family right before the holidays?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds horrible.” Awkward laugh. “But, um, my husband and daughter aren’t home now, anyway—they’ve gone away to visit my in-laws.” “You have no idea how grateful I’d be if you could make it,” he says, sounding hopeful. I don’t know what he looks like, but I can imagine him smiling. “I mean, I’ve been calling around to different psychologists all day, and—well, it should only be for a couple of days. You’d definitely be back by Christmas, the latest.” I wince, feel a surge of sorrow. I’m too embarrassed to admit that Dave and Izzi have no intention of spending the holidays with me this year. It’s what I deserve after what I did. “I’m sorry,” I say, “please refresh my memory. Have we ever met? You said you’re a private investigator hired by the victim’s—er, the deceased’s—family?” “Yes, I mean, we haven’t met, but I read about the work you did on the Strum case last year. I believe one of the victims was around the same age as our current victim. And I pulled up your book online—Dark Side: A Psychological Portrait of the Criminal Female Mind. You specialize in women. Just so happens the case is at an all-girls boarding school.” My stomach clenches. Focus. Deep breath. I shift my gaze to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. I don’t even know why I bother to keep one anymore. I have the same schedule now, week in, week out. Before, the month of December would’ve been filled with holiday office parties, Izzi’s end-of-year school activities, Dave’s plans for winter break, which I’d always beg him to change. I glance up. Friday, December 16. This morning’s therapy session slashes across my mind again. I see her face. Blank, empty. Her lips begin to curl around a word. I see myself in the reflection of her eyes. I’m close. Closer. I swallow hard. “The, um, the students don’t go home for the holidays?” I ask, slumping down to the floor. “Winter break is Saturday, the tenth to New Year’s. A few students stayed behind.” Reyes pauses. “The students who either couldn’t travel for various reasons or chose not to go home.” I lean the back of my head against the wall. Reyes continues. “The school is asking me to wrap up my investigation before students and staff return January 2.” “Okay…” He senses my discomfort, keeps talking. “Please. Please say yes. You mentioned you have a daughter. How would you feel if it were her?” he asks. “If she was found dead, you’d want closure, right? To be sure everything was done by the book and no stone was left unturned.” My stomach flips. “Of course I would.” “So, please. Please say you’ll help.” I think of my daughter, Izzi, the lengths I’d go to if she was found at the bottom of a hill. Even if it was an accident, I’d want to know why. I’d want to know how she got there. If she was alone. Afraid. Or if someone else was responsible. I’d want to know. I’d find them, I’d— “I don’t know if I can do this,” I confess. I shut my eyes, see her face again, legs crossed, sitting prim in that too-hot office, the heat blasting, the furniture too big for the tiny space. I tug at the neck of my sweater, suddenly tight, see my reflection in her eyes—close, so close. No. Stop. I suck up a big breath, blow it all out. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but after that case last year—” My voice cracks. “The Strum case?” A note of curiosity in Reyes’s question. “Yeah. Since then, things have been difficult. I ended up taking some time off—” “I—I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It just—it makes cases like this difficult.” “Oh—” “But before I say yes or no, can you give me an overview? What, exactly, I’ll be doing when I get there? I want to be sure I know what I’m stepping into.” Reyes lets out a breath. “Yeah—yes, of course,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Well, it happened at a private, all-girls boarding school called Shadow Hunt Hall. They have a very small student body on a very large campus. It’s densely wooded and incredibly isolated. It’s one of those ‘back-to-nature, no technology on campus’ sort of places. The girls are mostly… I guess the best word for it is—troubled?” “Isn’t that the best kind of girl?” “Uh, here,” he says, ignoring my attempt at a joke. “I’ll send you some info.” I glance at the screen, see he’s texted a link to the school’s website. I tap it open, swipe down the page. The school is ancient. Giant and stone, with iron gates and actual turrets, like a possessed fairy-tale castle. The curriculum looks interesting. Definitely nontraditional. It’s all music and arts and dance. I skim the mission statement: We believe in a holistic, individual approach to learning and rehabilitation, focusing on a curriculum centered on nature, group trust, and a healthy mind-body connection. Code words for no junk food or internet. Reyes waits patiently on the other end as I peruse the site. I click on the Tuition & Financial Aid page and flinch. A single term is more than twice the down payment we put on the house. “You there? Dr. Pine?” I lick my lips. “I’m here.” He pauses. “I’m having trouble getting any of the students to even talk to me,” he admits. “That’s why I need you.” I think of Izzi, chewing on her fingernails, avoiding eye contact when I ask how her day went. Ever since she started high school it’s been all one-word answers—good, fine—before she’d bound upstairs, not to be seen again until dinner. So I can’t imagine how the girls at this boarding school would react to a male private investigator showing up out of nowhere, prodding them with questions right after their classmate died. No doubt they’d recoil, want nothing to do with him. “Okay… I’ll help you,” I whisper.
It has been almost a year since the horrible accident that only took the life of Lori Mendenhall’s teenage son but also stole eight years of memories from her due to traumatic brain injury. Now she is returning home- but her life is nothing like she remembered. Her daughter is distant, and her once-loving husband is a workaholic she isn’t sure she can trust. As memories begin to resurface, Lori begins to wonder if the life she can’t remember is one she’d rather forget.
My Thoughts
The trigger warnings at the beginning of the book need to be taken seriously as there are some very heavy topics in this book, including the death of a child, adultery, abuse and divorce. The main characters are Lori, the mom who has lost her memory and is struggling to regain it, and Avery, the twin sister of Austin who was killed in a tragic car accident. This is not by any means an uplifting story, but it is engaging. I did not like most of the characters because they mostly seemed manipulative, although they were well-developed and dynamic. I did like Lori and felt bad for all she had been through but my favorite character was Avery. She tugged at all of my heart strings as she tried to maneuver her way through the minefield of loss and her parents’ broken marriage. This is definitely not a book for young teens because the topics are for more mature readers. Even some adults might find it difficult to read this book because it explores such difficult and heart-rending subjects. That being said, I did enjoy the book and its Christian message for seeking and finding hope amidst the rubble that sometimes is life. The central focus is that life is not predictable and you have to hold on tightly to faith in order to come out the other side of some of the dark tunnels. That being said, I will say that the darkness is emphasized here and the hope is revealed slowly, so I had to wait for it, expecting things to turn around, which they eventually did. I applaud the author for her sensitive writing about such hard topics and recommend this book for those looking for emotional release in a book…this one has all the feels, including an ultimately hopeful ending. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review, and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This book should not be read by anyone who is bothered by the triggers listed in my review. The topics are heavy and dealt with sensitively, but they are a major part of the book, making it not appropriate for all readers.
About the Author
Prone to wander, Janine Rosche finds as much comfort on the open road as she does at home. This longing to chase adventure, behold splendor, and experience redemption is woven into her Madison River Romance series. When she isn’t writing or traveling, she teaches family life education courses to college students, takes too many pictures of her sleeping dogs, and embarrasses her four children and husband with boy band serenades. Photo and Bio are from the author’s website at http://www.janinerosche.com
When you are headed in the wrong direction, sometimes you go a long ways before you become aware of the voice behind you telling you the way to go. Sometimes, the problem is that we get set on a particular path and don’t want to change directions. However, if we are always aware of crossroads and choices we have to make and if we ask for God’s help in choosing correctly, then we will be more likely to hear that quiet voice encouraging us along the right path. God consistently offers guidance if we are willing listeners.
One of the most solemn tasks that God gave us to do is to teach the next generation about Him and His power and His wonderful deeds. Our testimony is not to be hidden in our hearts where we can savor it all alone. It is to be shared vocally and frequently with others, especially our children. Although they may reject the message we are proclaiming, the seeds will be sown and with prayer and faith will one day bear fruit. It’s our responsibility to do our part, share the truth, and then let God take over softening the heart and opening the eyes to His love, mercy and grace.
I used to discipline my children regularly in order to train them to listen and obey. I disciplined them because I loved them and wanted them to grow up and into the ability to self-discipline. I feel very blessed that God loves me enough to discipline me with the aim of making me more like Him.
God captures us with love, grace and mercy. That is a great way to be a captive! No fear, no chains that bind us…just a lifting of our great burdens into His capable hands and a complete feeling of being able to relax and let go in His arms. As His captives, our responsibility is to spread the Gospel wherever we go. I love the imagery of this verse…the good news of the knowledge of Christ is like a sweet perfume. Have you gone into a room and knew instantly that someone you love dearly was just there because the essence of their scent was left behind? That’s what this verse makes me think about. As part of Christ’s triumphal procession, we need to act like victors, not downtrodden captives held by an oppressive dictator. God is love and always wants what is best for us. He knows that living for Him is what it always best!
When you are seeking something, you are looking hard for it, not just with your eyes but in your mind and heart, trying to find out the last place you saw it and may have put it down.
I love this Scripture verse because it encourages us to seek the Lord, but God shed more light on it for me as I meditated on it this morning. God is NOT the one who is lost! We are. We seek Him so that we can get back on the right path, not so that we can boast about finding Him. He never left, never moved, never was not exactly where He has always been. He is as close as your next prayer and as far as you try to push Him out of your life. God is nearby if that is where you want Him to be, but sometimes in the deepest part of our hearts, we relegate God to a lower place than He deserves and desires, and that is why we need to seek Him daily. I need to put Him on His throne repeatedly and take myself off of it. I think, in my human pride, that I am okay in my life and all is fine…and then, something happens and I know that is not true. When God is not on the throne, when I am not seeking Him daily, then I am the one who is lost and needs to find my way back to where I left Him. Because the truth is that He never leaves me…or you.
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 