Chapter 1

As the fog of sleep cleared from her eyes and they became adjusted to the twilight, it became evident she had fallen asleep, or passed out rather, on the front lawn once again. The giant solstice moon loomed overhead, an ancient curator, set about his nightly rounds from east to west. This was the same moon, she marveled, that had watched over many generations of her own family. The moon never changed. People, she reckoned weren’t so lucky. That same moon had seen her grandmother’s grandmother and so on, be born, live and die, in that glorious circle of helplessness, usefulness and enfeeblement since the dawn of mankind. How many of them, she wondered, had thought the same things, and maybe even thought of how she would one day be born, live and die under that watchful moon? 1

Of all those generations of women, only her mother remained. Her mother was the culmination of all those years of matronly wisdom, being handed down in the form of recipes, both for delicious pies and cakes and for the rearing of good, honest, and most of all beautiful children; A dash of courtesy, a pinch of sass and a healthy dose of discipline and love.2

Cooking and child rearing weren’t the only positive traits her mother had ingrained in her. Both she and her mother had graduated from college and had avoided the restraints of a young marriage or pregnancy. Her mother had taught her from a young age that she had to be responsible for her own actions and face their consequences.3

Facing the consequences of last night’s wine consumption was exactly what she was doing right now.4

She lit a cigarette and slowly inhaled the familiar taste of cigarette and cold morning air. The cherry red tip of the freshly lit fag brought a warm orange glow across her strongly-featured face; Her father’s eyes and brow, her mother’s button nose and cleft chin and the raven black hair her maternal grandmother had most hoped they’d have in common. Her stature was the gift her paternal grandmother had given her at the same time. At five foot ten inches, she had given her own sons a football player’s broad, square shoulders and the arms and legs of marathon runners. While fortunate for them, the same qualities were not considered as attractive in young girls. 5

In grade school she had towered over most of her classmates, and nature had singled her out for more than her share of ridicule. Being the tall girl meant that despite the fine symmetry and natural glow of her increasing beauty was hardly mentioned when compared to the numerous comments on her peculiar height. In ninth grade when she tried out for the cheerleading squad, the doctor’s physical found her to be an even six feet. This curse, however, quickly became a blessing as the rest of her filled out and came into womanhood. 6

She was an absolute specimen of beauty by all accounts, and very athletic to boot. It was for these reasons she had been chosen to participate in today’s conference at the state capitol nearly two-hundred miles away. It was because of her being selected that her friends had thrown the party the night before. Just a few friends and a bottle of wine, they had assured her. A few had turned out to be enough to upset the neighbors and a bottle had turned out to be only her part of the consumption. The once invigorating smoke of the cigarette was now gagging her as her brain regained connection with her churning stomach. She rolled over in the grass and vomited.7