Today, I’m pleased to be hosting my second guest from Making Connections Book Tours. Author Sheila Welch is joining me to talk about her new book, Waiting to Forget. Welcome, Sheila!
Title: Waiting to Forget
Author: Sheila Welch
Ages: 10 and older
Grades: 4th – 8th
Click here to read the story synopsis and reviews on the publisher’s website.
Excerpt: Pages 20 – 24 :
WAITING TO FORGET by Sheila Kelly Welch
WAITING TO FORGET by Sheila Kelly Welch
In
this excerpt, twelve-year -old T.J. has been waiting for a long time at the
hospital while his little sister, Angela, unconscious after a fall, is being
examined in the ER. Their adoptive parents are with Angela but take turns
checking up on T.J. He’s been looking through a scrapbook –
or life book, as their caseworker calls it – that he put together shortly before he and
Angela moved into their new home about a year ago..
this excerpt, twelve-year -old T.J. has been waiting for a long time at the
hospital while his little sister, Angela, unconscious after a fall, is being
examined in the ER. Their adoptive parents are with Angela but take turns
checking up on T.J. He’s been looking through a scrapbook –
or life book, as their caseworker calls it – that he put together shortly before he and
Angela moved into their new home about a year ago..
namelos
South Hampton, New Hampshire
Copyright © 2011 by Sheila Kelly Welch
All rights reserved
Chapter Three
Now—
“Timothy?”
He slams his life book shut and
looks up into Marlene’s face. She’s standing directly in front of him, but he
didn’t see or hear her coming.
looks up into Marlene’s face. She’s standing directly in front of him, but he
didn’t see or hear her coming.
“I’m sorry you’ve been waiting here
alone. But I … your dad … the doctors don’t think you should come back there.”
Marlene stays standing, her arms bent as if inviting a comforting hug.
alone. But I … your dad … the doctors don’t think you should come back there.”
Marlene stays standing, her arms bent as if inviting a comforting hug.
T.J. waits. He doesn’t ask about
Angela. His fingers feel stiff and moist where they are touching the cover of
his life book.
Angela. His fingers feel stiff and moist where they are touching the cover of
his life book.
“She’s still not awake,” Marlene
says quietly. “They’re doing tests. X-rays and all that. Only more complicated.
A CAT scan. You know.”
says quietly. “They’re doing tests. X-rays and all that. Only more complicated.
A CAT scan. You know.”
T.J. says nothing.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?
Here. Here’s some money.” She dumps a pile of change into his cupped hand.
Here. Here’s some money.” She dumps a pile of change into his cupped hand.
The coins are cool on his warm palm.
“Go get yourself some juice, apple or orange, plus something to eat. There are
machines around that corner.” Marlene points and T.J. turns his head to look.
But his stomach is clenched around that familiar pain, holding it tightly
inside him. No way can he eat anything.
“Go get yourself some juice, apple or orange, plus something to eat. There are
machines around that corner.” Marlene points and T.J. turns his head to look.
But his stomach is clenched around that familiar pain, holding it tightly
inside him. No way can he eat anything.
Marlene reaches out to brush a
strand of hair off his forehead, and he ducks instinctively. She draws back,
frowning, then says, “I’ll come for you as soon as they say you can see her.
But right now—it’s not a good time.”
strand of hair off his forehead, and he ducks instinctively. She draws back,
frowning, then says, “I’ll come for you as soon as they say you can see her.
But right now—it’s not a good time.”
T.J. tries to look into his adoptive mother’s
eyes, but she is already turning toward the swinging doors.
eyes, but she is already turning toward the swinging doors.
She calls back to him, “Be sure to
get some food, Timothy. It’s time for lunch, but we can’t leave Angela. We
don’t want you getting sick from not eating.”
get some food, Timothy. It’s time for lunch, but we can’t leave Angela. We
don’t want you getting sick from not eating.”
T.J. is silent. He feels a tiny
measure of relief, like when you open the refrigerator door on a really hot day
and you breathe in a little blast of chilled air. Marlene didn’t say that
Angela was dead. And she didn’t mention anything about Angela’s fall. Or why it
happened. Not yet.
measure of relief, like when you open the refrigerator door on a really hot day
and you breathe in a little blast of chilled air. Marlene didn’t say that
Angela was dead. And she didn’t mention anything about Angela’s fall. Or why it
happened. Not yet.
His mouth feels dry. He thinks about
his tongue, wondering if it’ll stick to his teeth if he doesn’t get a drink
soon. He’s not thinking about Angela behind those doors, having weird stuff—tests—done
to her.
his tongue, wondering if it’ll stick to his teeth if he doesn’t get a drink
soon. He’s not thinking about Angela behind those doors, having weird stuff—tests—done
to her.
He stands up and dumps all the
change Marlene gave him into the left front pocket of his jeans. It feels
heavy. Then he sits down again and carefully pries open his life book to the
second page.
change Marlene gave him into the left front pocket of his jeans. It feels
heavy. Then he sits down again and carefully pries open his life book to the
second page.
Between Then and Now—
“Draw a
picture of the first house you remember, T.J. It can be one you lived in with
your birth mother or a foster home. Put in lots of details.” Mrs. Cox was
sounding helpful and supportive. It was her job.
picture of the first house you remember, T.J. It can be one you lived in with
your birth mother or a foster home. Put in lots of details.” Mrs. Cox was
sounding helpful and supportive. It was her job.
T.J. grabbed the top piece of
construction paper off the neat pile Mrs. Cox had arranged on the table halfway
between him and his sister. The paper was brown. He used a black magic marker
to draw a rectangle with a triangle for the roof. Next he selected a blue
marker and began coloring in the house. The blue on top of brown turned a dark,
nondescript color, almost black. The picture looked like something a baby would
draw. Not worthy of an eleven-year-old. He pretended he didn’t care.
construction paper off the neat pile Mrs. Cox had arranged on the table halfway
between him and his sister. The paper was brown. He used a black magic marker
to draw a rectangle with a triangle for the roof. Next he selected a blue
marker and began coloring in the house. The blue on top of brown turned a dark,
nondescript color, almost black. The picture looked like something a baby would
draw. Not worthy of an eleven-year-old. He pretended he didn’t care.
Mrs. Cox was busy trying to get
Angela to do something—anything—other than make yet another folded bird.
Angela to do something—anything—other than make yet another folded bird.
T.J. had really wanted to draw that blue
house, but it looked all wrong. He thought about crumpling up the stupid
picture and tossing it onto the floor. If he did, Mrs. Cox would insist that he
get up and take it over to the wastebasket by the door, so instead he began
drawing a tree next to the house. He tried to make a cat, balancing on one
limb. Felicity Feline. He wrote her name in the space above the stick-figure
cat, but the marker was too thick, so the letters got all mushed together. And
he wasn’t exactly sure how to spell Felicity.
house, but it looked all wrong. He thought about crumpling up the stupid
picture and tossing it onto the floor. If he did, Mrs. Cox would insist that he
get up and take it over to the wastebasket by the door, so instead he began
drawing a tree next to the house. He tried to make a cat, balancing on one
limb. Felicity Feline. He wrote her name in the space above the stick-figure
cat, but the marker was too thick, so the letters got all mushed together. And
he wasn’t exactly sure how to spell Felicity.
Spelling was not his favorite
subject. Funny how reading could be so easy but spelling so hard. Actually,
nothing about school was a favorite with T.J. Maybe recess if nobody was
picking on him or Angela.
subject. Funny how reading could be so easy but spelling so hard. Actually,
nothing about school was a favorite with T.J. Maybe recess if nobody was
picking on him or Angela.
“You lived in a black house?” Mrs.
Cox sounded concerned.
Cox sounded concerned.
T.J. shook his head and said, “It’s
supposed to be blue.”
supposed to be blue.”
“Oh, well, here, why don’t you start
over? Use this white paper. That way the blue will turn out blue. Or better
yet, use crayons. When you’re filling in a large area, crayons work better than
markers. Don’t you think?”
over? Use this white paper. That way the blue will turn out blue. Or better
yet, use crayons. When you’re filling in a large area, crayons work better than
markers. Don’t you think?”
“No,” said T.J.
Mrs. Cox sighed. “Maybe we’ve done
enough for one session. Neither of you seems to be trying. I mean, these books
are something you can treasure the rest of your lives. You can show them to your new family. Marlene is a
scrapbooker herself. She will love looking at your life books! You can add on
new pages after you move in with Dan and Marlene. And I’m certain they will be
interested in your past. In everything about you.”
enough for one session. Neither of you seems to be trying. I mean, these books
are something you can treasure the rest of your lives. You can show them to your new family. Marlene is a
scrapbooker herself. She will love looking at your life books! You can add on
new pages after you move in with Dan and Marlene. And I’m certain they will be
interested in your past. In everything about you.”
He didn’t believe Mrs. Cox. There
were a lot of things T.J. didn’t think his new parents would want to know.
There were things he didn’t want to remember himself.
were a lot of things T.J. didn’t think his new parents would want to know.
There were things he didn’t want to remember himself.
Mrs. Cox glanced at her watch and
sighed again. Evidently it wasn’t yet time to take them back to their foster
home.
sighed again. Evidently it wasn’t yet time to take them back to their foster
home.
“Here.” Mrs. Cox handed him an unlined 3 x 5 card. “Write down
your memories about this house, T.J. You don’t have to draw it over if you
don’t want to.”
your memories about this house, T.J. You don’t have to draw it over if you
don’t want to.”
He sat for a few minutes with a thin
magic marker in his hand. He was aware of Angela humming softly to herself as
she folded an orange bird. She had finished a pink bird, too, and set it on the
table next to the purple one. The paper cranes looked as if they’d fallen, each
listing to a side on bent wingtips.
magic marker in his hand. He was aware of Angela humming softly to herself as
she folded an orange bird. She had finished a pink bird, too, and set it on the
table next to the purple one. The paper cranes looked as if they’d fallen, each
listing to a side on bent wingtips.
T.J. wrote carefully. This was are house for a wile. I licked
living there. They had a lot of cats. I don’t rememmber there names. I mean the
peple. The cats had good names like Felcity Felin.
living there. They had a lot of cats. I don’t rememmber there names. I mean the
peple. The cats had good names like Felcity Felin.
He stuck the card under the drab
picture of the house. He wished that Mrs. Cox had insisted that he redo the
drawing, but he didn’t want her to think he agreed with her about how lousy it
looked, so he left it alone.
picture of the house. He wished that Mrs. Cox had insisted that he redo the
drawing, but he didn’t want her to think he agreed with her about how lousy it
looked, so he left it alone.
Now—
T.J. stares
at the picture in his life book and then shuts his eyes, trying to remember
that blue house the way it really looked. But he imagines it just like his
babyish drawing—crooked, smudged. Best forgotten.
at the picture in his life book and then shuts his eyes, trying to remember
that blue house the way it really looked. But he imagines it just like his
babyish drawing—crooked, smudged. Best forgotten.
But he can’t forget the days leading
up to their going there. It all started when Momma left them with her friend
Tanya. He was little then, years younger than Angela is now. He had just
started kindergarten, and Angela was toddling around, wearing diapers that gave
her a fat butt and smelled worse than dog poop.
up to their going there. It all started when Momma left them with her friend
Tanya. He was little then, years younger than Angela is now. He had just
started kindergarten, and Angela was toddling around, wearing diapers that gave
her a fat butt and smelled worse than dog poop.
About Sheila
Hello! Rather than introduce myself with my standard biographical information, which is easy to find, I decided to provide some little-known facts about me.
A Baker’s Dozen of Facts about Sheila Welch
- When I was born, I broke the record for the longest baby girl ever born in Pottstown Hospital. A boy beat me by half an inch.
- I was a few months old when I ate a caterpillar that fell into my baby carriage.
- My first cat was named Icky, and he sometimes slept under a weeping pear tree that I called Icky’s house.
- When I was seven, I had rheumatic fever and spent six months in bed, and we had no TV, computer, or electronic games. Guess who soon realized there is magic in reading!
- Three days before I started third grade at a new school, a chair I was standing on fell over and broke my right arm. That chair is now at our kitchen table 845 miles from my old home. I never stand on it.
- One day when I was about ten, I was crawling over some huge tree roots in the woods. My head was down near the roots when, suddenly, I came face-to-face with the biggest spider I’ve ever seen.
- My pet goat was named Valentine, and my dog was named Tam. He could add, subtract, multiply, and divide by barking the correct number of times. He could do any math problem that I could do.
- I had a hand-me-down horse named Flash who was a go-anywhere, do-anything kind of horse.
- We didn’t own a TV until I was 15.
- I milked goats for several years and drank goats’ milk.
- When I was in high school, I won an Achievement Award in Writing from the National Council of Teachers of English, and colleges all over the country invited me to enroll. I decided to study art instead of English.
- I was sure I’d meet my future husband at a summer camp, and I did.
- My children have called me the Bionic Woman because I have an artificial heart valve that’s older than a lot of you who are reading this. Sometimes I can hear it ticking, and when I can’t, I get a little bit worried.
Tour Schedule
Want to see more? Click here to see the rest of the Waiting to forget tour schedule.
Giveaway
Want to see more? Click here to see the rest of the Waiting to forget tour schedule.
Giveaway
Sheila has generously offered to gift a lucky commenter with a copy of Waiting to Forget. International participants will receive and ebook (mobi, epub, or pdf). US participants will receive and ebook or a print book according to their preference. The contest closes 3/20/2012 at 11:59PM.
Question
Tell us a little-known fact about yourself. And have fun with it!
I’ll start the ball rolling — I met my husband, who by the way doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol, at a little bar called Cheers. And no, it wasn’t the one in Boston 🙂
~Kristine
ShanonGrey
I used to sneak out to read romance novels when I was twelve ~ lying on my stomach (backwards) on my horse. He would wonder around the pasture grazing while I read.
Loved your post. Best of luck.
Kristine Cayne
Shanon, that is an adorable story. I can just picture it now 😀 Thank you for stopping by and commenting!
Louise Wise
I was diagnosed as having dyscalcula (dyslexic but with numbers)at school. Maybe that's why I turned to words and stories? I still have trouble with numbers, and when I can't do so-called simple mathematical problems I feel embarrassed.
So, how long were you as a baby, Shelia?
Kristine Cayne
Thank you for commenting, Louise. I'd never heard of dyscalcula before. I can imagine how frustrating that must have been. Sheila will have to answer your question about length. I know I certainly didn't break any records 😀
Donna Caubarreaux
I lived in foster care…enough said. My grandmother bailed me out.
Kristine Cayne
Thank goodness for grandmothers! I think Sheila's story is one tht will touch many people in similar situations. Thank you for commenting, Donna.
Sheila
Thanks so much for hosting this stop on my blog tour, Kristine. I really appreciate what you're doing to help other authors.
Shanon, I used to daydream on horseback but never read a book. Sounds lovely!
Louise, I am terrible at mental arithmetic and can't seem to think without a pencil in my hand. In addition, I am an atrocious speller! Oh, I don't have a detailed birth certificate, and I can't remember how many inches my mother said although the number 25 or 26 might be it. Or is that freaky BIG?!
Donna, I am glad you had a kind grandmother. I hope you have a chance to read my book someday.
Thanks to all of you for commenting.
Kristine Cayne
Thank you, Sheila. It was a pleasure. I'll pick a winner and send you the person's contact information.
~Kristine
Dynie
The older I get the more I refuse to grow old gracefully. I absolutely will not, will not, will not!!! Just don't tell anyone I said that.lol
Kristine Cayne
Dynie – they say that our age is determined by how we act. Act young–stay young! Thank you for stopping by and commenting 😀
Sheri
I love this post Kristine! Thanks for being part of the tour!
Growing up I had a black lab named Chewy (after Chewbacca from Star Wars…yes, I was a sci-fi geek). She was the best dog ever!
Kristine Cayne
Sheri – I'm a huge Star Wars fan and Chewy is a great name for a black lab 😀 Thank you for stopping by and commenting. I love hosting authors on my blog and bringing them closer to new readers! Thank you for stopping by and commenting.
MyFavoriteBooks
Great post Kristine and Sheila, it looks great.
Kristine Cayne
Thank you for your comment and for stopping by! I'll be picking a winner for the giveaway this evening. Good luck!
Sheila
Thanks again! It was so nice to read the comments.