No Little Choices excerpt
Below is an excerpt for the novel No Little Choices. To purchase a copy from Amazon, click here.
The rain on the window glass danced and sang to the beat of the wind as Quinn O’Connell’s tears fell silently on the open Bible lying on the cold kitchen table in front of her. The psalmist screamed inside her head: “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.” She lifted her glass and put the whiskey to her lips. It was seductively smooth, but even it was no longer her friend. It had long ago lost its ability to cauterize her anguish with temporary, sweet relief. She eyed the Valium tablets arranged neatly in front of her.
She looked up at the window, and then through glass and beyond, seeing all there was to see and yet seeing nothing at all. There was no meaning to be found there. There was only nothingness in a rainbow of gray. As she stared blankly she felt the familiar and heavy weight of sorrow, like a millstone around her neck, for the child she lost forever seventeen years before. Over time, the persistent throbbing of raw grief evolved into quiet, chronic despair. She felt that despair metastasize to her feverish soul, consuming her humanity as if with a fire stoked by the Almighty’s righteous fury.
After seventeen long years, Quinn had almost found God’s forgiveness. She was unable to undo what she did and not free to forget it. Eventually, she learned how to live with her painful memory and had moved on with her life. She even thought she was at peace with God. The pain of her loss was there, but the passage of time had proven the great healer of those wounds.
And then, in an instant, the price of forgiveness was levied upon her: Douglas.
For a time, Quinn sought answers. In time, she discovered her own truth about her God: “For the wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done, and there is no partiality.”
With nothing left but the dancing and singing rain on the window glass, Quinn quit.