The Clay Remembers (Prologue)

For the “someday” novel:

After her marriage ends, archaeologist Anna Robinson takes a job excavating the site of both a prehistoric culture and a nineteenth century ranch where her life intertwines with the lives of two women who lived at there at different times in history. Their stories shape her past, present, and future.

Chapter 1

1978, Chicago, Illinois

“A vasectomy?” Anna’s eyes were wide with disbelief.  “You got a vasectomy and you never told me?”

“I simply didn’t think you needed to know at the time.  I intended to tell you when I thought the time was right.” Foster’s earlier loss of control had been replaced by a calm and condescending tone.  She couldn’t remember ever being this angry, but she struggled to maintain her composure.  Now was not the time to lose control.

“When?” She leaned against the door jamb for support and folded her arms, trying to look calm while hiding her clenched fists.  She wanted to smash him in his arrogant mouth, but she knew it would make her no better than her mother.

Foster strode confidently across the room until he was towering over her thin, five-foot-three-inch frame.  There it is again; this is what he does every time he wants to intimidate me.  Why has it taken me so long to see it? For the first time, Anna returned his gaze evenly.

“The week before we got married.”  She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. There was no emotion in his voice, just a simple and straightforward reply.  She might as well have been asking him for the time.  In spite of her resolve, a wave of nausea spread upward into her throat.

She ran for the bathroom and vomited.

. . . . (what led up to this moment will be included here in Chapter 1–and will be offered for feedback in another posting.)

Anna finally quit heaving and stared into the toilet, disgusted and defeated.  She reached for the handle, took a deep breath, and flushed away what was left of her marriage.

About Sharon

**Writing, both personal and professional, has always been an important aspect of my life. **Personally, whether I write from experience or invent fictional characters, I learn so much about myself. Writing has always helped me understand and deal with important events and issues in my life. The blog, "Boxelders and Blackberries" serves this purpose. **My "gravatar" is a boxelder tree, which I hope provides a way to bring together my personal and professional writing. The boxelder tree branches into multiple trunks, each representing a different direction my life and career has taken.
This entry was posted in Dysfunctional Families, Fiction, Meanderings, Meanings, Memories, Novel, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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