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    Frog Soup
    Frog Soup
    Frog Soup
    Ebook105 pages1 hour

    Frog Soup

    By Linda Munroe

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A heartfelt story of growing up, friendship, love and revenge.

    Clair tells her story, her way. She leaves no stone unturned. Clair reminisces about her life in a small, southern rural county. Looking back, she cant help but feel her life was a series of twists and turns and sweet revenge.

    The traumatic loss of her father, when she a baby, left her mother to raise her alone. Clair grew up in a small house. Her mother worked hard, to earn enough money to bring Clair up and to save for her future. What Clair could not understand was why her mother tolerated her employee Lady Ronas, abusive ways. As Clair found out that old saying, things happen for a reason proved true.

    Little Violet was Clairs closest friend. Their friendship lasted a lifetime. How could it not? Clair and Violet had so many secrets they shared.

    The color difference between Clair and Violet was never an issue, but as Clair grew older she began to wonder. Leading her to ask her mother some life changing questions.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateOct 11, 2013
    ISBN9781466984066
    Frog Soup
    Author

    Linda Munroe

    Linda is a writer and artist. Her collection of art awards began in sixth grade. Earning first place in a statewide competition, Linda continued receiving recognition for her art achievements throughout her life. While attending high school in Hamilton, Massachusetts, she won a Gold Key award at Boston University, in art. A congratulatory letter soon followed from, Senator Ted Kennedy, encouraging, Linda, to continue with her artwork. After graduating high school, Linda taught art to children, and adults, at the same time, she continued writing stories and poetry. Her love of art, and writing led her to write her first fantasy Children’s book, for her young daughter, Angela. Linda was twenty years old. To, fine tune, her writing skills, Linda, attended the Beverly Community College, where she took creative writing. To date, Linda has written, illustrated, and published two children’s books, Wilhameana Bean, and Scardey Witch, and has written, and published a vampire novel, The Flight of Gabrielle, (for the mature reader), and now Frog Soup. Linda has delighted many children, reading her stories in classrooms, and sharing her journey as a writer. Book signings, radio interviews, newspaper interviews, and even television, soon followed. Because of her fine illustrations, Linda was commissioned to illustrate a children’s book for another author. Watch for future books from Linda Munroe.

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      Book preview

      Frog Soup - Linda Munroe

      Order this book online at www.trafford.com

      or email orders@trafford.com

      Most Trafford titles are also available at major online book retailers.

      © Copyright 2013 Linda Munroe.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

      ISBN: 978-1-4669-8407-3 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4669-8406-6 (e)

      Trafford rev. 10/10/2013

      21097.png www.trafford.com

      North America & international

      toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

      fax: 812 355 4082

      CONTENTS

      PART ONE:   Mr. Purdy

      PART TWO:   Miss Ellie

      PART THREE:   Daddy

      PART FOUR:   Forever Friends

      PART FIVE:   Truth Be Told

      PART SIX:   A New Beginning

      PART SEVEN:   First Patient

      PART EIGHT:   The Proposal

      PART NINE:   Satisfaction

      PART TEN:   Whispering Pines

      PART ELEVEN:   The Wedding

      PART ONE

      MR. PURDY

      Ahh, the sweet, smell of Southern Magnolia blossoms. How it brings me back to my childhood, every spring. I loved those spring mornin’s. Seemed like most every day started out the same. Birds, singin’ like a joyous church choir. Warm breezes carryin’ the Magnolia perfume into the open windows in our house. Mama, used to get up before the sun peeked over the horizon. She’d wash our clothes and hang them out to dry. I loved lyin’ in bed listening to her snapping the wet clothes before she pinned them on the line. On the days the wind stirred, the bed linens billowed out like sails on a grand ship. It was a magical time, then. My thoughts took me to, what I could only imagine. To places beyond Bo County, places that had buildin’s reachin’ so high, they went clear through the clouds and places where rushin’ rivers ran off the side of mountains, and arenas where men used to fight lions and bears. Like the places I read about in books. There was a time when I really believed I would move to one of those places. Course, I was a child then. You might think I was a dreamer, well, you’re right, but those dreams got me through some tryin’ times as a child.

      Regardless, I surely do have a lot of wonderful memories. Seems like a hundred years ago, yet at the same time it seems like yesterday.

      My life was interestin’ for sure. Didn’t realize it at the time, of course. Life was different back when I was a child. Simpler? I wouldn’t say that. Being a child, life sure does look a lot bigger, if you know what I mean. Older folks seemed bigger, smarter; but that wasn’t so. Some of those folks looked at us children like we were never goin’ to grow up. Well, when we did, they wished they were kinder, givin’ us some sort of respect.

      Hmm, when I think of respect, Ol’ Mr. Purdy Stump comes to mind. Mr. Purdy surely was dealt a bad hand of fate. He loved playin’ his worn banjo and singin’ for the folks in town. Must have been a yearnin’ to be a singin’ celebrity. Well, could be that’s what was in mind. Bein’ about 12 years old, I had some big ideas. An active imagination is what my mama used to say.

      Mr. Purdy was always polite and willin’ to help a lady with her parcels, with no intentions of reward, mind you, just a gentleman. Mr. Purdy got his rewards from his playin’ and singin’. His old hat covered with years of sweet stains, turned upside down, was by his feet. Most of the time it had change in it. I’m thinking Mr. Purdy squirreled most of that change. I don’t know if that’s accurate, just a thought.

      Mr. Purdy sure loved his old banjo. Lookin’ back, I believe he was playin’ and singin’ just because he was meant to. He sounded good, at least to me he did. Mr. Purdy sat on his porch or in front of the diner in town everyday and all day, strummin’ his banjo. His right foot did so much tapping his shoe wore a hole in the sole.

      Everyone knew Ol’ Mr. Purdy. Some liked him, some didn’t. The folks that didn’t like him were white folks; but to be fair there was some white folks that did like him. The black folks, well, they plain ignored the need to say they approved, or disapproved, of Purdy. Purdy was a part of the community, Mr. Purdy, and his old spotted dog. I don’t think Purdy had a name for that old scruffy dog. Never heard him call his dog anything but dog. Now, that I’m thinking about it, maybe that was the dog’s name, Dog. My mama told me a curious thing about that dog. She said the dog rescued Mr. Purdy. Took me a lifetime to realize what she meant.

      There was this one woman in the community who raised a ruckus about Purdy and his dog. Seemed odd some how. The woman worked for Lady Rona. Betsy was her name. Betsy was Lady Rona’s Negro housekeeper and errand girl. Poor Betsy. She had no family. Lady Rona knew it, too. Betsy was raised in an orphanage. She didn’t speak too much. Seemed to be afraid all the time. If anyone got to close to her, she’d scurry the other way. Guess sometimes we just don’t know what the other person has been through in their life.

      Couldn’t tell you for sure, but I’m thinkin’ Rona saw an opportunity to take advantage of Betsey. She used her to do everything. Betsy aged a whole lot faster than most her age. Don’t ever remember seeing her with a smile on her dark face.

      Betsy claimed Mr. Purdy touched her on her breasts. Well, maybe he did, but the fact is, Ol’ Purdy couldn’t see that well. There were a lot of folks who didn’t know that fact.

      I’ll tell you how I saw the happenin’s to Betsy. Oh, not that I witnessed it, but from what I sorted out from the gossip and facts.

      Betsy went up to ol’ Purdy one warm spring day. Purdy was sittin’ on a rockin’ chair in front of the general store. His Banjo was restin’ on his lap, while he wiped his forehead with his red hankie. Betsy stopped about five feet from Purdy, just starin’ at him. She looked over her shoulder a couple of times. Those who saw her couldn’t tell for sure who or what she was looking at, or lookin’ for. I heard Lady Rona was across the street watchin’ the happenin’s from an inconspicuous place, didn’t surprise me none. Bein’ a sneaky, selfish bitch, she’d slink on her belly if it made her look good or got her a few extra dollars. But, as I said, I wasn’t there.

      Betsy walked up to Purdy, then leaned in close. Purdy jolted with surprise. Guess he didn’t see or hear Betsy’s approachin’. From what some folks who witnessed the happenin’s, so they claimed, said Purdy, made an unwanted advance. Course, no one actually saw the act. They saw Betsy, slap Purdy’s face. Betsy claimed she was merely bendin’ over to drop a dime into Purdy’s hat, sittin’ on the porch floor. She said, Purdy took advantage of her breasts hangin’ there in front of him.

      Bullshit, I say. The town knew Purdy wouldn’t be so disrespectful. Hell, he was always willin’ to help anyone who was in the need.

      I figured Rona was behind the event. She was always complainin’ that Purdy was an eye sore. One eye glazed over with Cataracts and his face always lookin’ dirty with stubble, surely wasn’t his fault. He didn’t say much, but when he did, he said exactly what was on his mind. That’s what he did when Rona stepped in front of him causin’ him to trip over her foot. There he was, lyin’ in the street, Rona lookin’ down at him. You clumsy ass. Look what you did to my shoe! She scoffed. That’s just where you belong, in the gutter. Rona said with spite. Purdy got himself up, brushed his shirt off and gave Rona a few choice words of his own. Some heard Purdy sayin’ somethin’ to Rona. The only words anyone made out was, Guess some folks can’t see any better than me, or they’re just plain ignorant.

      I have to chuckle when I think of that. Wish I could have seen that incident, and the look on Rona’s face.

      Poor ol’ Purdy suffered for that. Some how Purdy’s fingers got broken on his right hand. The hand he used to strum his Banjo. He never said who did it. He knew no one would believe him, or maybe he was too afraid to say.

      I’m sure it wasn’t just that incident that led to his fingers getting broken. I believe Rona had the need to get Purdy back for his insolence. Like she was born into royalty or something. I’m sure if she, was queen of the county, she would have a collection of heads in a trophy room, heads of anyone that pissed her off.

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