Novel of the Month: Forsaking the Garden

Forsaking the Garden was originally conceived as the story of a kidnapped and brainwashed woman. The idea first reared its head in September 2010, when I watched a special about a polygamist sect and read an article about a psychological disorder known as folie imposee, where a dominant person initially forms a delusional belief during a psychotic episode and then imposes it on others who are under his direct influence.

Originally, I intended to write the novel from several different points of view. Each of the wives would share their history, though the focus would be on Jennifer, the young woman snatched to replace a dead wife. I wrote 58 pages – nearly 15,000 words – before I realized I was telling the wrong story.

Irene was a minor character. As the eldest daughter of the family, she was supposed to be smart but obedient. And she was – but she also witnessed too many inconsistencies for her to remain obedient for long. The character practically screamed at me as I wrote a third-person limited-omniscient chapter for her. When I had finished the chapter, I knew Irene was my protagonist. I started the novel over, writing Irene’s story from a first-person perspective. The concept of folie imposee was not abandoned, but it definitely became secondary to Irene’s coming-of-age tale.

To read an excerpt of this novel, click here.

If you would like to read Forsaking the Garden, you can find it at Amazon, Barnes &Noble, Smashwords, and several other e-book retailers.

FOR A CHANCE TO WIN AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY: visit my Facebook page and“like” the Book of the Month post.

#SampleSunday: Forsaking the Garden -- At Sunset Point

She stared silently forward. We came up to a rest stop and she pulled into it. “My father used to always stop at Sunset Point, whether we were headed up or down the hill.” She stepped out of the truck and walked to a nearby table, where she sat and looked out at the view. A few other people were around: a woman walking a small dog wearing a sweater, a man with a black-streaked shirt and a baseball cap, a young couple with markings all over their arms and wildly colored hair. I was amazed at the oddness of them, yet aware that I was perhaps the oddest person there.

After a few minutes, I followed her to the table and sat down next to her.

“Was Mamma Barbara sick before she had Timothy?”

I nodded. “She’d been getting weaker and weaker for weeks. She wouldn’t stop teaching though; she said she didn’t want to burden the others.”

“What was wrong with her?”

Shrugging, I said, “Mamma Wanda tried to help her, but no one knew exactly what was wrong. There were no doctors—”

Jennifer snorted derisively.

“At least, we didn’t know there were doctors.”

“How was Wanda treating her if she didn’t know what was wrong?”

“She made her herbal broths and stuff like that. Nothing seemed to help.”

“The day Timothy was born, what happened?”

I told Jennifer about Mamma Barbara passing out in the schoolhouse and the other mammas moving her to her bedroom. I recounted the terrible screaming and the more terrifying silence that eventually fell on the house. I didn’t mention Mamma Wanda’s satisfied smile the next morning.

Jennifer dropped her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp as she went. Finally, she said, “We’d better go. I want to be down the hill before sunset.”

When we left, I saw the strange-haired couple leaning against a wall. He pressed against her and they kissed each other hungrily.

Forsaking the Garden Released Today!

Is knowledge bitter or sweet?
Irene's parents built a paradise hidden from
the world, but an intruder with a
newspaper threatens to destroy all
she's ever believed.

My fifth novel is available in e-formats today at Smashwords.com and Amazon.com for the incredibly reasonable price of $2.99. I hope you'll "take a bite"! 

#SampleSunday: Forsaking the Garden, Chapter 3

Forsaking the Garden officially launches on May 19th, though you may be able to find it earlier. Today I am posting the third chapter; if you are interested in starting at the beginning, see Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. 




And now, Chapter 3:



Mamma Sheena took over the classes a few days later. As I had expected, she didn’t want me to help her at all – she thought I was just a child, and the child of a rival at that.

I hadn’t really considered the mammas rivals before that terrible morning meal. Mamma Barbara had told me the other mammas were like sisters she’d never had, comparing them to the sisters in her favorite author’s novel, Pride and Prejudice. When I asked her which sister she was, she had laughed and asked me who I thought she was like. I didn’t know then. After she fell ill though, I decided she was most like Jane – the prettiest, sweetest, and most content of them all.

For the first few days, Mamma Sheena was able to stay awake and conduct the classes without too much trouble. As Mamma Barbara had predicted, though, Mamma Sheena soon found herself facedown on the desk more often than she stood in front of us. I always waited a few minutes before taking over the class, because Mamma Sheena sometimes woke up as soon as her forehead made contact with the cool wooden surface in front of her. When I heard her soft snoring start, I would stand up and continue the lecture, whatever the subject may have been. I had already learned the material anyway, after more than eight eager years under Mamma Barbara’s tutelage. My ability to soak up all of her lessons so completely was another reason why Mamma Barbara had made me her assistant – it kept me in the classroom despite the fact I didn’t actually need to be there. To keep me from getting bored, she would assign books for me to read when I wasn’t helping her with the other children. While the others went out to play, Mamma Barbara and I would discuss the books at length. My biggest questions always revolved around the structure of the families in the books. Over and over, I asked her why there was only one mamma, why they had so few children, and why their lives seemed so different from ours.

Her answers always centered on how much better our way of life was than the lives portrayed in the books. “If one of the mammas were to die, there would still be four more to take care of you and your brothers and sisters.” “Because their families have only one mamma, they can’t have as many children as we can. Those children are smothered by their mammas and they don’t have the strong ties to their brothers and sisters like you have.” “Life is harder for the families in the books. The parents are always busy with work and they have to leave their children in the care of others. Even though the mammas and your father are busy, they are all still around for you. Why, you could go out right this minute and find your father tilling the field!”

What she said made sense: I could usually spot father from the back window of the schoolhouse. All of the mammas were within crying distance; whenever one of us fell down, there was always a lap waiting to comfort us. I accepted her words as truth.

But the squabbling I witnessed in her absence shook my belief. I wondered if Mamma Barbara had ever fought with the others, or if she alone saw our family as perfect. I intended to ask her as soon as she was well.

In the meantime, I taught the younger children the lessons I had already learned. I loved spelling lessons; Mamma Barbara said I had a special gift for language. I held a spelling bee at least a couple times a week. Ulmer was always anxious for those, since he too had a talent for spelling. I could tell he was upset about Mamma Barbara; he had a close bond with her like the bond I had with Mamma Wanda.

History was another subject I enjoyed. The history books Father had gotten for us were discards from a public school and only went up to the 1950s or so, but Mamma Una said nothing really interesting had happened since World War II anyway. Just like Mamma Barbara, I would read the chapter aloud and then ask the study questions and call on the others to answer, making sure everyone answered at least once, starting with the younger children, since they hadn’t been through the book before.

I always hoped Mamma Sheena would at least make it through the math lessons. She was the best with numbers of all the mammas, having honed her skills in the garden. She could tell you exactly how much a particular plant – be it tomato, eggplant, or green bean – could be expected to yield. Using this knowledge, she always kept a garden that fed us well throughout the year. When she taught math, she created word problems using vegetables and animals right out of her head. It was the only subject for which she showed a real talent. Unfortunately, numbers weren’t my strongest subject. But when Mamma Sheena taught math, I felt like she untangled all the mysteries right there in front of me for the first time. When Mamma Barbara came back, I planned to ask her if Mamma Sheena could continue teaching math for us.

Of course, whenever Mamma Sheena woke up from her naps and found me in front of the class, she assumed I was misbehaving and reprimanded me for it. She rarely realized she had, in fact, been sleeping; instead, she imagined I had somehow snuck up in front of her in an attempt to make her look bad. If the other children tried to defend me, they too found themselves punished. After the first few times, I told the others not to worry about it – I could take her punishment. Of course, that didn’t stop me from going to Mamma Una with my complaints.

“Now, Irene, I don’t want to hear about this. Mamma Sheena is in charge and you can’t be going over her head to get the results you want.”

“But, Mamma Una! She keeps punishing me as if I were doing something wrong!”

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, but sometimes that’s just how life is.” She hugged me and said, “You just keep doing what you know is right. When Mamma Barbara comes back, I’m sure you’ll be rewarded for your faithfulness.”

#SampleSunday: Forsaking the Garden, Chapter 2

Being released on May 19, 2011

No one slept that night. Even if I had been able to ignore Mamma Barbara’s screams and drift off, my terrified younger brothers and sisters needed comforting. With no mammas to hug them, they came to me and huddled around my bed. Even my sister Nancy, who at nine had already decided she didn’t need any of the mammas or Father, wanted me to tell her everything would be fine. So that’s what I did: I gathered them together and played telephone and told stories until, finally, when the sun was just coloring the sky to the east, the screaming changed.

The scream of a newborn is one of irritation. Every time a new brother or sister joined the family, his or her scream sounded as if he or she were complaining about the brightness of the light and the chill in the air – as if the world were not adjusted to his or her liking. The new baby’s cry was no different. I sighed in relief, certain everything was fine now that he or she had joined us in this not-quite-what-we-expect world.

After tucking all the younger children in – even my sister Penny, who was only a year younger than me – I tiptoed down the stairs hoping to catch a glimpse of the new baby. Peeking around the banister, I spied Mamma Perdita crying at the door to Mamma Barbara’s room, the baby already in her arms. I knew something was wrong: the baby should, by all rights, still be with the mamma who had given birth. When Perdita spotted me, she held a finger to her lips as she indicated I should go back upstairs with a tilt of her head. I climbed back up the stairs and into bed as quietly as I could. Pulling my blanket up to my chin, I wondered what terrible thing had happened.

Penny, who had not fallen asleep yet, whispered, “Did you see the mammas?”

I shook my head.

She closed her eyes and I soon heard soft snores from her bed. I don’t know how long I lay there before I heard footsteps on the stairs. I padded across the floor and opened my bedroom door. Father was down the hall, quietly pulling the door to Ulmer and Elmer’s room shut. He saw me and waved me over, a sad smile on his grizzled face. I hugged him tightly.

“Sweet Irene,” he cooed. “You are a prize beyond measure. Was it you who took care of the others last night?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl.”

“Is Mamma Barbara okay?”

He shook his head sadly. “She’s very ill. We’re all worried about her. But don’t you worry too much. Mamma Una is taking good care of her, and if anyone can help her, she can.”

“What about the baby? I heard it crying earlier.”

He chuckled. “Healthy lungs on that one, eh? Yes, he’s fine.”

“What’s his name?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m hoping Mamma Barbara will wake up so we can discuss it.”

“She’s sleeping? That’s good right?”

He looked down at me with sad eyes. “I hope so.” He glanced at the clock on the wall between the rooms. “What time did you get them to sleep?”

“Not until the sun rose. Everyone was so scared.”

“Understandable. Go back to bed, Irene. No classes today, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t sleep, Father. May I go downstairs instead?”

He nodded and hugged me again. I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I found Mamma Wanda humming and stirring oatmeal for the breakfast meal.

“Good morning, my darling girl,” she said, smiling.

“Good morning, Mamma.” Her cheerful demeanor made me wonder if Father was too worried about Mamma Barbara. Mamma Wanda was a skilled herbalist, having studied the many books Father brought to her from his trips into town. If anyone could cure Mamma Barbara, I was certain my mammas would be able to. “Can I help you with anything?”

“You could set the tables for us.”

“The children just fell asleep a little while ago.”

Mamma Wanda frowned. “Why weren’t they asleep all night?”

“None of us could sleep for fright! Mamma Barbara’s screams—”

She looked surprised. “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t realize you children could hear that ruckus, or I would have come up to check on you.”

“Weren’t you with Mamma Barbara?”

“No. There’s nothing I can do for a woman giving birth – nothing can remedy that kind of pain. I stuffed my ears with cotton and went to bed after dinner. I should have brought cotton up to you kids.”

“Have you seen Mamma Barbara this morning?”

She shook her head. “Mamma Una insists on caring for her herself. Besides, Una says she’s sleeping. I don’t want you to go bothering either of them, okay?”

“Yes, Mamma.”

“Well, since the children are sleeping, just set the table for” – she stopped and counted on her fingers – “six. You can eat with us this morning.”

A warm happiness flowed through me as I set the table. It was the first time I’d ever eaten at the adults’ table, and I was thrilled to be there – even under such unhappy circumstances.

Before long, Mamma Perdita wandered in and sat down, followed by Mamma Sheena, Mamma Una, and Father, who cleared his throat as he pulled out his chair. Mamma Wanda ladled the hot cereal into bowls that I carried in and served to the other mammas and Father. Mamma Wanda and I then carried our own bowls in and joined them. I spooned brown sugar into my oatmeal before adding a pat of butter, which quickly melted when it touched the bowl’s contents.

None of the adults spoke for several minutes. Everyone was intent on their meal and no one even looked up for quite some time. When I sneaked peeks at their faces, everyone looked somber, like when Mamma Barbara lost her babies. Even Mamma Wanda wasn’t smiling now.

Finally, Father cleared his throat again and asked, “How is the baby, Perdita? Were you able to feed him?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice a little higher and squeakier than normal. I thought I could hear a warble as well. Mamma Perdita always seemed a little nervous around Father, but the nervousness was pronounced today. “He was a little slow to latch, but once he caught on, he ate plenty.” She giggled; Sheena patted her hand.

“Una, how is Barbara?”

“She’s still sleeping. Her fever hasn’t come down, and I’m having trouble stopping the bleeding completely.”

“Wanda, do you have anything that could help?”

“Nothing she can take while she’s sleeping. Can you wake her up?”

Una shook her head.

“That’s a shame.”

I glanced up at Mamma Wanda and realized she was glad Mamma Barbara was ill.

I watched as Mamma Sheena slowly fell asleep, her spoon full of oatmeal drifting back to the bowl before it reached her mouth.

“She really can’t afford to stay up like she did last night,” Mamma Una commented. “With her affliction, a lack of sleep cripples her even more.”

“I tried to get her to go to bed,” Perdita whined.

“No one blames you, dear.” Una smiled at the youngest of Father’s wives.

“Of course not,” Father agreed. “Sheena can be bullheaded – everyone knows that.” He pushed back from the table with both hands and walked around to where Sheena, her chin against her chest, sat. He put both hands on her shoulders and said her name by her ear.

Mamma Sheena’s eyes popped open and her head came up as if it were on a spring. “Did I nod off?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, my dear. Come,” Father said, helping her to her feet, “I’ll help you to your bed.”

“Thank you, Rex,” she answered. They disappeared toward the bedrooms.

“I think she fakes it,” Mamma Wanda said irritably.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mamma Una admonished. “Why would she do that?”

“To get attention from Rex, of course.”

“Rex is more than fair with the amount of time he spends with each of us.”

“She did say she wanted another baby,” Perdita mused, the quiver gone from her voice.

“I thought three were enough for her.” Wanda dropped her spoon in her bowl.

“Wanda, you know we want every child God will provide to us.” Una calmly stirred her coffee.

I had never seen my mammas like this. I remembered watching my sisters fight over a doll, each one jealous and convinced the other had played with the doll longer than she had. I knew right then I never wanted to share a husband with another wife.

“I’d love to have another baby, but he never wants—” Mamma Wanda stopped herself abruptly, focusing on me. “Irene. Are you done eating, dear?”

I wasn’t, but I knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Yes, Mamma.”

“You’re excused then.”

“Thank you, Mamma.” I pushed away from the table, leaving half a bowl of oatmeal and the fascinating argument behind.

#SampleSunday: Forsaking the Garden, Chapter 1

Book Release scheduled
for May 19, 2011

When I was almost fourteen years old, Mamma Barbara fell into a fever. The leaves were just starting to change that week, and I was anticipating the crisp weather and the pleasures of Mamma Wanda’s stews, which she only made after the summer had passed. As the oldest student, Mamma Barbara had made me her teaching assistant, a role I relished because I got to spend more time with Mamma Barbara, a kind and beautiful woman who loved books more than anything else in the world. 

Mamma Barbara was far along in her pregnancy, having succeeded in carrying the baby well past the danger point. Though I knew only a little of how grownups lived, I understood she had lost four babies in the last four years. I imagined the small children letting go of her when she wasn’t paying attention and wandering off into the forest surrounding our home. Every time she lost one of her children, she would be so sad I feared she would wander off to look for them and never come back. I would try to cheer her up by hugging her or bringing her drawings, but if the other mammas caught me, they would tell me to leave her alone and stop being such a pest. Before long, she would be back to normal – at least on the outside. But if you looked in her eyes, you could see her hidden sadness.

Anyway, this time her baby wasn’t going to disappear into the forest; all of Mamma Barbara’s fear and sadness were replaced with a kind of exhausted happiness as each day passed and the baby grew inside her. Mamma Una, the oldest and wisest of the mammas, came to the schoolhouse to talk to Mamma Barbara one day while the younger children were at lunch.

“Sheena can take over classes until after the baby is born. Now that the harvest is over, the garden won’t take up much of her time.”

Mamma Barbara laughed. “Sheena’s hardly in any condition to do my job.”

“What do you mean?”

“Una, who will supervise the children when she nods off?”

“Irene will. Won’t you, my dear?”

I nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t that I disliked Mamma Sheena, but I couldn’t help being disturbed by her constant state of sleepiness.

“Why not just let Irene teach while I’m recuperating? It will be a good experience for her.”

I felt a blush of pride rise on my cheeks at Mamma Barbara’s words.

“She’s still a child,” Mamma Una said dismissively. “She’s too young to be left in charge.”

“You’re wrong. She’s very mature for her age.”

“And you know why that would be a problem.” Mamma Una raised her eyebrows and looked at Mamma Barbara meaningfully.

“Why would that be a problem?” I asked.

“Never you mind, young lady,” Mamma Una said. “Go inside and help Mamma Wanda with lunch.”

I frowned but left the two mammas alone. In the main house, Mamma Wanda greeted me with a brief hug. Despite my dislike of cooking and cleaning, I loved being with Mamma Wanda. 

My siblings were already eating their dessert – a cobbler Mamma Wanda had made from some of the peaches I had helped her can during the summer. Though I had claimed not to be hungry, my stomach rumbled loudly at the smell of the sweet dish.

“I thought you weren’t coming in,” Mamma Wanda said as she went back to washing the lunch plates.

“Mamma Una made me leave,” I pouted. 

“I’m sure she had a good reason.” The dishes clanked in the sink and the kitchen’s warm, moist air made me want to curl up and take a nap right there.

I mumbled my agreement.

“Are you hungry? Do you want a sandwich?” Mamma Wanda was the only one who knew why I didn’t like to eat lunch on Fridays: I didn’t like fish. Father always went fishing on Thursdays, and therefore, we always ate fish on Fridays. Sometimes, I got lucky and Father didn’t catch enough to feed all of us. Usually, though, there was plenty to go around and extra to salt-cure for the winter. Mamma Wanda caught on long ago that I was usually not hungry on Fridays. When she was able to do so, she always offered me a honey and butter sandwich to keep me from starving.

“No, thank you. I just want some of the cobbler, if that’s okay.”

Mamma Wanda wagged her head in exasperation, but dished me up a helping of the dessert. 

“Mamma Una wants Mamma Sheena to take over school when Mamma Barbara has her baby.” I hopped up on the corner cabinet behind her to enjoy my treat.

“Hmmph,” Mamma Wanda sounded.

“That’s what I think too. She won’t be able to stay awake – doesn’t matter how many screaming kids are around, she’ll just fall asleep.”

Mamma Wanda’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. She rarely laughed aloud; she said it wasn’t dignified. None of the mammas laughed easily except Perdita, who was the youngest of all of them. I made it my business to try to get them to laugh – a rewarding but scantly paid job. If my goal at that moment had been to make Mamma Wanda laugh aloud, I would merely have done my impression of Mamma Sheena. However, humor wasn’t my aim that afternoon. “I’m serious, Mamma. How is she going to supervise all of us when she’s facedown on the desk?”

“Now, Irene, don’t be dramatic. You know you’ll just take over for her.”

Setting my dessert down for emphasis, I said, “Mamma Sheena doesn’t like me very much. I doubt she’ll be happy when she finds out I’m more teacher than student.”

“Sheena loves you just as much as we all do, sweetheart. Why, just the other day—”

The kitchen door crashed open and Ulmer, one of my eight-year-old twin brothers raced in. “Mamma, come quickly! Something’s wrong with Mamma Barbara!”

“Oh, no!” I jumped from the counter and grabbed Mamma Wanda’s still-wet hand, dragging her along with me as I raced after Ulmer.

In the classroom, we found Mamma Barbara with her head in Mamma Una’s lap, her normal color drained and pain creasing her face.

“Try to relax, Barbara,” Mamma Una soothed. “We’ll take care of everything. Just let the pain go.”

A scream wrenched itself from Mamma Barbara’s body and she went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

When Mamma Una realized she wasn’t alone, she started issuing orders. “Irene, get Mamma Sheena. Ulmer, find Father. Wanda, help me lift her.”

I glimpsed Mamma Wanda as I ran from the room. I thought I saw her shoulders shaking.

If you have enjoyed this excerpt, I hope you will look for Forsaking the Garden on its May 19th release date. In the meantime, please check out The Prophet's Wives and The Thief of Todays and Tomorrows.