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Point of Departure

by Carol Ohmart Behan; co-published with MeadowMuse Productions

245 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0089; ISBN 1-55369-276-4; US$22.50, C$26.00, EUR18.50, £13.00

An absorbing contemporary novel of life's hard trials, divorce, and a woman's growing sense of self-confidence as she finds her true path.

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About the book      About the author      Excerpt      Catalogue info

About the Book Sometimes on our life's journey, it seems as if we've lost our way. In this contemporary novel, Joanna Quinn's journey mirrors the struggles nearly all of us face at some point in the progress of our own lives. This is how her story begins: "Things just wouldn't add up. She'd been at it a solid hour. Joanna leaned on her elbows over the yellow legal pad and frowned at the last figure she had circled, nearly lost among the uneven columns of numbers, cross outs, cryptic notations and pointing arrows. If she could just get to next week's paycheck" Alone on that bleak March night, Joanna Quinn finds her patched-together life coming undone. Deserted by her husband and isolated from her family, she and her young daughter, Gwen, face an uncertain future financially and emotionally. How could everything have gotten so off track? Where could she turn for answers? With her unscrupulous landlord hinting at sexual favors in lieu of rent, there is no time left to hope solutions will find them. Accepting temporary refuge with her best friend, Kim, she undertakes the hard work of re-balancing her life. It is in part a matter of her coming to trust others who wish to help. But it's not until she rediscovers faith in herself that she finds the place to begin again. READERS' COMMENTS "I finished reading your book today...the story fed me, called me back for more, and completed the experience with a satisfying read. I easily identified with the hard trials of life...I've lived it as I think many women have!" Joy B. ------------------- "Thank you for the gift of your novel...While it is not the type of book I normally read (no explosions, occultism, or space aliens!) I did find it remarkably sensitive and optimistic." Tom M. -------------------- "What a pleasure to read it...I love the title which held for me a double meaning, one to cover the reasons for departure, the other, the timing, the coming together of the weavings of time and space...Your sensitivity, sensibility, perceptiveness of character, motives and relationships were well done and clearly present." Elizabeth B.

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About the Author Carol Ohmart Behan, a lifelong resident of Upstate New York and an unapologetic "child of the Sixties", devoted twenty-five years to raising a family and teaching high school English. Along the way she nurtured her writing life through journal writing and mentoring the creative writers among her students. She credits a synchronistic encounter with the young adult writer, Robert Cormier, at a teachers' conference in 1990 as the catalyst to taking herself seriously as a writer. He signed her program that day with the words, "Start writing that novel for me." Ten years and two "practice novels" later she left fulltime teaching to pursue her life's passion. Point of Departure is the result. In addition to her writing, she now teaches workshops in creative writing, personal empowerment and labyrinth. She welcomes your comments and feedback at meadowmuse7@yahoo.com

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Things just wouldn't add up. She'd been at it a solid hour. Joanna leaned on her elbows over the yellow legal pad and frowned at the last figure she had circled, nearly lost among the uneven columns of numbers, cross outs, cryptic notations and pointing arrows. If she could just get to next week's paycheck.

The refrigerator wheezed and lapsed into silence. She leaned back in the chair, massaging her tired hand and eyeing the small pile of unwashed supper dishes. The food hadn't even put away yet. Good thing Gwen actually enjoyed having boxed mac and cheese with hotdogs twice a week.

Then she stood and stretched, weighing the benefits of reheating what was left of her tea. The odds of actually getting a full night's sleep already seemed remote. Maybe it was time to give Kim's offer serious thought.

While the microwave hummed, she stood with arms folded and studied the calendar taped to the cupboard door of the trailer's cramped kitchen. Then she took the pen kept on the window sill and drew a neat blue slash across the day's date. Sixty-two days. The microwave bell dinged. "Damn Larry," she said to the calendar, and punched the door latch to retrieve her tea.

Leaning against the counter she took sips of the tepid liquid. The aging microwave had done its best. After all, they'd gotten it secondhand when her cousin Marie remodeled her kitchen. She thought sometimes how it was lucky the trailer had a steel frame since it kept the deteriorating, secondhand contents of her home from collapsing around her in a sorry heap.

The phone's sudden ring jarred her. "Hello?"

"Jo? It's Lou," came the unmistakable rasp of her mother-in- law's voice. "I was thinking about all of you this evening and thought I'd call. How are things? That damn snow gone finally?"

"No, it hasn't gone completely. There's still a snow bank by the road." Louise Quinn had moved to Florida three years ago citing her long-held aversion to temperatures below fifty degrees. That and the sight of snow.

"Ugh. You poor souls. You've got my sympathy. Hang on..." There was the click of a cigarette lighter and then the puff of her first drag. "Okay. So how's that great kid of yours?"

"Gwen's doing fine, Lou. She's already asleep or I'd have her say hello herself." Joanna twisted the phone cord wondering how to field Lou's inevitable questions.

"Uh huh. Great. Got an Easter card to get in the mail to her pretty soon." There was another pause. Joanna pictured her in her flowered bathrobe, pink terry-cloth turban on her head, sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of cold coffee and an overflowing ashtray close at hand. "And what have you heard from that son of mine since he took off for P.A.? It's been what, two months? I hope he's finally started earning his keep like he should."

Louise's pointed question was not casually put. Joanna knew that not much escaped her notice even with the distance between Upstate New York and Florida. She'd had enough experiences with unreliable men and didn't spare Larry any of her disapproval. Just before he'd gone to Pennsylvania she'd called and given him an earful.

"Hello? You still there, Joanna?" A sharp cough followed and Joanna had to hold the phone away from her ear for a moment.

"Yes, I'm still with you, Lou. Sorry, I was just thinking of what to say." She sighed into the phone. "To be truthful, no, he's not earning his keep." She glanced at the pile of bills on the table next to the yellow pad. "The second check he finally sent us bounced this last week which has made for a bit of a mess, I'm afraid."

"Oh, God." Lou gave her own sigh. "And I thought this new job was going to get him turned around. So what's he have to say for himself?"

"Not much. Actually..." Maybe it was time she told the truth to someone, "actually, I haven't heard from him in almost two months and I don't have a number anymore to call him to find out what's going on."

"You mean he's walked out on you two?" Lou's voice rose sharply. There was a sudden metallic clang. "Hold on. I knocked the damn ashtray over."

Joanna listened to the sounds of things being cleaned up. There wasn't much point in mincing words. When Lou came back on the phone she said, "To answer your question, Lou, I'm starting to think that, yes, he has walked out this time."

"Why that lousy bastard." Even for Lou these were strong words. "I thought I'd talked some sense into him in January." "You may have at the time. To tell you the truth, I'm not all that shocked anymore. I'm sitting here tonight sorting through my options. It's not like I can't manage on my own. Plenty of women do. After all, Lou, look at you."

"Well, Hon', God knows that's a fact." Louise paused, sucking out another long drag of her cigarette. "I just hate the thought of you having to be put into something like this. It's a tough row to hoe. You've got some options, you said?"

"A few. For one thing, the landlord said he understood and would give me a little extra time this month." She massaged the knot in her shoulder with her free hand. "And then a friend of mine I work with needs a roommate and says she has space for Gwen and me. So I am giving that a thought. And just now I've been trying to get all the bills straight. It looks like I can get to the end of this month anyway."

"Uh huh. I'm hearing some good news in all that. Maybe moving in with your friend would be a smart idea, at least for a while. Nothing like friends when the going gets rough. Listen, here's what I'll do. I'm going to give my sister, Betty, a call and see if anyone over there in Auburn's heard from him. If I can get hold of him, he's sure going to get a piece of my mind."

"Be my guest, Louise. Who knows, maybe he'll turn up soon with money and a logical explanation."

"Hah!" Louise snorted a laugh and was waylaid by another cough. "And the Pope's Polish too, so's you know. Let's hope he's somewhere getting himself clear on his responsibilities. But for now, you call me if you and Gwen decide to move anywhere. Okay?"

"I will. Thanks for calling, Lou."

"All right, Hon'. My love to Gwen."

There was a click as she hung up.

She went to check on Gwen, feeling her way along the narrow, unlit hall. Noiselessly she pushed open the bedroom door. The soft pink glow of the Little Mermaid nightlight cast deep shadows on Gwen's sleeping form curled beneath the covers. One bare foot stuck out from under the pale blue spread, some of its worn fringe tangled around her toes. With practiced stealth Joanna gently disentangled Gwen's foot and pulled the spread gently down over the bed's edge. She stirred but remained in sleep. Baxter the bear had fallen to the floor. Joanna tucked him back in alongside Gwen and made her way back to the kitchen light.

She picked up her tea once more from the table and stared again at the yellow pad, noticing she'd written "Dad" in two places, a line drawn through it both times. Tapping her wedding ring on the cup handle, she wondered why she hadn't remembered doing that twice. Footfalls scuffed suddenly on the outside steps followed by a hesitant rap on the door. On the clock it was just past nine. "Who on earth...?" Through the door's frosted panes she recognized her landlord, Tony Cataldo. She sighed. Hadn't she gotten things straightened out with him yesterday?

"Hey there, Joanna," he nodded to her when she opened the door. "I saw your lights still on so I thought it was maybe okay to knock." The light over the door picked up the sheen of his black Brylcreamed hair slicked back behind his ears. For a guy in his mid-thirties he'd always reminded her of a fugitive from the Fifties, tight black jeans and all. "Got a minute to talk?" He leaned towards the half-open door.

She thought for a moment and then let go of the handle. "I guess." What more could she possibly say about the fact that Larry's check had bounced?

Inside he stood looking around for a moment, hands in his pockets. A wave of his Aqua Velva after shave reached her, a scent he seemed to douse himself with daily. Though they only rented the trailer from him, she resented the proprietary way his eyes took things in. "Your little girl in bed?"

"Yes. It's a school night." Joanna faced him, cup in hand, her back to the dining table with its stack of bills and the pad with its leering numbers.

"Uh huh. Well, I promise not to bother you too long. But I've been giving some thought to your..." he paused and wet his lips, eyes resting with an odd weight on her face, "your situation."

Sweat prickled under her arms, her grip on the cup handle tightened. "Listen, Tony, all I asked for was a week, maybe ten days to straighten things out. If you could just have a little patience. Like I said, I'm sure that..."

He raised a hand, gesturing her to stop. "Hey, not a problem. We talked about that yesterday." His voice had an apologetic, soothing edge to it. "Really, I know things have got you a bit in the corner here. Believe me, I understand that, Joanna." One side of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile meant, she was sure, to be pleasing. "I'll bet you're thinking I stopped by to hassle you some about it." The black eyes held her in a long stare.

"Well, I..."

He interrupted her again and stepped closer. Speaking softly, like he was talking to a skittery child, he said, "Let me get right to the point and we might both feel better. I think I've come up with a way to help you out. Especially if that man of yours isn't likely to turn up anytime soon, like you said." Again his eyes darted around the trailer and then back to her with look that swept her up and down. Its chill pinned her to the table like some squirming lab specimen. A curl of black hair had fallen onto his forehead. "Money isn't the only way to pay for your rent here, you know. A night or two a week I could, you know, drop in late for a visit with you. Say twenty minutes or so and then I'd be on my way." He spread his hands towards her and it felt like he'd opened her shirt. The tip of his tongue flicked snakelike across his lips and he smiled again at her frozen face. "So what do you say to that?"

He stood waiting. The cup started to slip from her grasp. Almost without thinking she flung the tea at him. He threw up his arm and it splattered on the sleeve of his leather jacket. "Jesus!" he spat out, leaning towards her, eyes daggers, but then seemed to change his mind and backed towards the door. Mindful of Gwen asleep down the short hall, she hissed the words that finally came loose. "That's what I say to you, you creep. Now get the hell out of here and don't ever suggest something like that to me again." Without another word he closed the door with a slam sending a last cloying drift of Aqua Velva swirling around her. His shadow slid away from the window and she heard the crunch of his steps retreating down the park's drive. Bile rose in her throat. She ran for the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up in the toilet.

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Catalogue Information

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