The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,141
me—while I was married and now that I’m not—of the kind of true partnership I want to have.”
No, what wrecked my marriage was lack of stamina. We were in no way trained for the long haul; we were not conditioned for the marathon of two individual people creating one life together—a life that must naturally change and evolve. When it didn’t evolve easily, the instinct was to simply get rid of it. I think our cultural instinct when something isn’t working is to throw it out and get a new one. That’s where the connection to the tattered saddle and the rescue animals came together for me in the story: I don’t believe marriage is necessary. But I do think every adult should have the right to marry if they so choose. And if they do, there’s a richness that only comes from the repairs. Until you’ve truly committed to something—the damaged saddle, the horse that’s become a dangerous nuisance, the relationship you feel you’ve outgrown—you never get to experience that sweet satisfaction, that deeper layer of love that comes only from the arduous work of salvaging it. As Cami’s dad describes the stitched-up saddle in the novel, the scars “. . . add to the beauty of the saddle, to the value. They announce it was worth saving.”
“Until you’ve truly committed to something . . . you never get to experience that sweet satisfaction, that deeper layer of love that comes only from the arduous work of salvaging it.”
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Excerpt: The Kindness of Strangers
A YOUNG WIDOW RAISING TWO BOYS, Sarah Laden is struggling to keep her family together. But when a shocking revelation rips apart the family of her closest friend, Sarah finds herself welcoming yet another troubled young boy into her already tumultuous life.
Jordan, a quiet, reclusive elementary school classmate of Sarah’s son Danny, has survived a terrible ordeal. By agreeing to become Jordan’s foster mother, Sarah will be forced to question the things she has long believed. And as the delicate threads that bind their family begin to unravel, all the Ladens will have to face difficult truths about themselves and one another—and discover the power of love necessary to forgive and to heal.
“Katrina Kittle’s compulsively readable The Kindness of Strangers is a powerful public-service narrative about child abuse and its effects on a family.”
—Chicago Tribune
Excerpt
Danny wondered if people looked at his family and knew. Did it show?
Sitting there, in his childhood home, hours before the wedding, he was astounded they’d all come so far. He looked back and remembered a time he’d never dreamed there’d be a scene like this. He wondered if anyone else looked at them and still thought, My God, it’s amazing.
He knew that his family still thought it. And that’s what he loved about them. On days like this one, or on their graduations or holidays, they sometimes caught one another’s eyes and it was there. That sparkle of “we did it, didn’t we?” This light of how lucky they were.
“They sometimes caught one another’s eyes and it was there. . . . This light of how lucky they were.”
Danny loved the days when they remembered that.
Because they didn’t always. They couldn’t. He knew that it went against human nature to truly savor every moment and continually remain aware of all they had to be grateful for. They couldn’t live like that. They’d never get anything done. There wasn’t always time to savor every damn little thing, like electricity, or your car starting, or the shipment of specialty cheeses arriving on time. He thought about how much effort and energy it would consume to perpetually relish everything. It wasn’t practical.
But he thought his family did it more than most.
And with good reason.
His favorite days were when he knew they were all doing it at the same time.
The bustle here in his mother’s kitchen gave him a rush. Mom looked great, but he was careful not to tell her too many times. He’d finally convinced her to color her gray hairs, and he didn’t want to make too big a deal out of being so obviously right; he just grinned every time someone else told her, “You look fabulous, Sarah.”
Danny had already taken off his tux jacket and tucked a cloth napkin into his shirt as an apron. He envied how Mom could stir up the brown-sugar frosting and never get a drop or a splatter on her ivory dress. It was so like her to make the cake herself. Danny had told