Title:
Moon Over Alcatraz
Author: Patricia Yager Delagrange
Publisher: Ravenswood Publishing/Black Hawk
Pages: 308
Genre: Romantic Women’s Fiction
Author: Patricia Yager Delagrange
Publisher: Ravenswood Publishing/Black Hawk
Pages: 308
Genre: Romantic Women’s Fiction
Brandy Chambers was looking forward
to the birth of her first child. She and Weston move from San
Francisco to the small town of Alameda
to start a family, she’s writing her second book, and Weston has a fantastic
job working on the Oakland-San Francisco
Bay Bridge
project. Having this baby would make her already-wonderful life perfect.
But when the baby dies after a
difficult birth, Brandy’s perfect life blows up in her face. Stricken with
grief, she and Weston pull apart. This new distance leads them both to
disaster. Not until a chance encounter with her high school friend, Edward
Barnes, does Brandy pull herself together. Brandy and Weston agree to recommit
to each other, striving to forgive infidelity and recreate their previous
existence.
Everything is once again going
according to plan—until Brandy discovers she’s pregnant. While she struggles to
cope with this new obstacle, Edward Barnes returns to town and discovers she’s
having a baby, while Weston is torn between his love for his wife and his anger
at her betrayal. Can Brandy manage to keep her marriage to Weston together?
Will Edward be a part of Brandy’s life if she and Weston separate?
For More Information
- Moon Over Alcatraz is available at Amazon.
- Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
While
sipping my coffee, a gentleman dressed in an impeccable dark grey suit, red tie
and baby-blue shirt approached my table.
“This
is the only unoccupied chair. Do you mind?”
I
looked over at the empty seat and nodded. “Go ahead,” I mumbled then continued
reading. I turned the page and noticed his hand reach across the small round
table, handing me my keys.
“Oh,
my God! I must have dropped them. Thank — ” I looked up at his face. “Edward?
Edward Barnes?” My eyes widened. “Is that really you?”
He
pulled out the chair and sat down, his blue eyes snagging me with an intense
stare. “Brandy Donovan?”
“Brandy
Chambers now. I don’t think I’ve seen you since high school graduation.”
“I
left for NYU two days later and — ”
“Law
school, right?”
“You
remembered.” He smiled, revealing beautiful straight teeth. “Then I came back
here and I’ve been practicing law ever since.”
“What
type of law?”
“Criminal.
What about you, Mrs. Chambers?” he teased.
“Well,
I married Weston after I graduated from Cal.
He works as a structural engineer on the San
Francisco Bay Bridge
project.”
“And
you? A mom? Two point five kids?”
I
looked down into my paper coffee cup, fiddled with the top. “No, no kids yet.”
Feeling too raw to discuss it now, I changed the subject. “Do you work here in Alameda?”
“Yeah,
I do.” He glanced down at his wrist watch. “I’d love to continue our discussion
but I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. How about lunch soon? Remember how I was
planning on becoming a chef some day?”
I
laughed, recalling his regaling me with the list of applications he’d received
for culinary institutes all over the world. “I remember all right. And you were
always demanding I taste your latest creation, asking if I thought it needed
more spice or a little less olive oil.”
He
stood, pushing the chair back toward the table. “I’ll have to cook for you one
of these days. Sometimes I think I’m a better chef than I am a lawyer.”
“Well,
most of the time you were a fantastic chef.”
He
grinned mischievously. “And you were always a bad liar. Some of the dishes I
served you should never have made it onto the plate.”
I
laughed again. He’d always been nice looking but now he was older, he’d
matured, no longer a gangly teenager. He’d filled out but was still slender
with long legs and he appeared to be at least six foot five inches tall. He
turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Grabbing the corner of his sleeve, I smiled up at him. “It was nice seeing you
again, Edward.”
He
looked right through me with that blue-eyed stare. “It certainly was, Brandy.
You take care now.” He tipped his head once in acknowledgement then wended his
way through the crowd toward the door.
“Edward
Barnes,” I whispered to myself. “I’ll be darned.”
I
threw my cup in the recycling can and speed-walked out of Peet’s, jogging home
in less than ten minutes. What a surprise, meeting Edward after so many years.
I plopped down on the front room couch and gazed up at the ceiling.
Edward
Barnes in the flesh, I reflected. He looked so different than when we’d known
each other in high school. He’d become a strikingly handsome man, a perfectly
shaped nose widened a bit at the bottom, a dark mustache hovered over his
now-straightened teeth, an impressively square jaw, crescent-shaped eyebrows,
and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen without contact lenses.
He
reminded me of the guy who played a private detective in Magnum, P.I. — Tom
Selleck — in his younger days! And he’d always had a fantastic personality,
funnier than hell, joked around a lot. I’d enjoyed hanging around him in the
classes we shared at St. Joseph’s Notre
Dame High School.
It would be fun to catch up on old times, along with playing guinea pig to one
of his homemade meals.
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“Breathe,
Brandy, breathe.”
Weston’s
voice came from the side of the hospital bed where I lay propped up, knees bent
to accommodate Dr. Farney checking to see how far my cervix had dilated.
Gritting my
teeth, eyes shut, I inhaled through my nose. The pungent odor of sweat wafted
through my nostrils. I imagined the crest of a deep-blue wave curling over,
white foam churning, crashing down, wave after wave speeding toward the edge of
a sandy beach.
But I
couldn’t take in a full breath. I opened my mouth, tried sucking in air, lungs
on fire, the pain like a serrated knife to my belly, hands flailing, slapping
the sides of the bed to get Weston’s attention.
“She can’t
breathe.” I could hear the panic in his voice. He was scared. So was I. Is this
how a first delivery is supposed to go?
Dr.
Farney’s voice tore through the delivery room. “The baby’s heart rate is
slowing.”
A plastic
mask lowered over my mouth and nose, and a steady flow of oxygen began pouring
through. I shifted my gaze to the right. Weston’s eyes were riveted on my lower
body, his brows dipped down, mouth set in a tight line.
“What’s
wrong?” I shouted, my voice muffled beneath the mask.
Weston
leaned down, his body blocking the glare of the overhead lights. “Take deep
breaths. They’re using forceps to get the baby out.” He gripped my hand and
squeezed then edged toward the foot of the bed. “Doctor, is the baby okay?”
“Umbilical
cord’s wrapped around her neck. She’s twisted in the birth canal.” Dr. Farney’s
voice sounded achingly calm.
Wrapped
around her neck...Twisted in the birth canal... My baby girl had been due in
early June, but she was being born three weeks early. However, Dr. Farney had
urged us not to worry.
The pain
was beyond bad. It was excruciating. Suddenly the pressure in my groin
subsided. I inhaled one deep breath, then another, and my lower body deflated
like a leaky tire.
“The baby’s
not…she’s not breathing,” Weston whispered.
A deafening
silence splintered through the room.
I tugged on
Weston’s hand. He twisted his head in my direction, tears glistening along his
lower lashes.
My mind
registered the screams, but my ears heard only the wild thumping of my heart as
flecks of black clouded my vision.
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