The Memory House: A Honey Ridge Novel, by Linda Goodnight
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The Memory House: A Honey Ridge Novel, by Linda Goodnight
Ebook PDF The Memory House: A Honey Ridge Novel, by Linda Goodnight
New York Times bestselling author Linda Goodnight welcomes you to Honey Ridge, Tennessee, and a house that's rich with secrets and brimming with sweet possibilities
Memories of motherhood and marriage are fresh for Julia Presley—though tragedy took away both years ago. Finding comfort in the routine of running the Peach Orchard Inn, she lets the historic, mysterious place fill the voids of love and family. No more pleasure of a man's gentle kiss. No more joy in hearing a child call her Mommy. Life is calm, unchanging…until a stranger with a young boy and soul-deep secrets shows up in her Tennessee town and disrupts the loneliness of her world.
Julia suspects there's more to Eli Donovan's past than his motherless son, Alex. There's a reason he's chasing redemption and bent on earning it with a new beginning in Honey Ridge. Offering the guarded man work renovating the inn, she glimpses someone who—like her—has a heart in need of restoration. But with the chance discovery of a dusty stack of love letters buried within the lining of an old trunk, the long-dead ghosts of a Civil War romance envelop Julia and Eli, connecting them to the inn's violent history and challenging them both to risk facing yesterday's darkness for a future bright with hope and healing.
The Memory House: A Honey Ridge Novel, by Linda Goodnight - Amazon Sales Rank: #1886692 in Books
- Brand: Goodnight, Linda
- Published on: 2015-05-01
- Format: Large Print
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.50" h x 5.60" w x 8.50" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Library Binding
- 500 pages
The Memory House: A Honey Ridge Novel, by Linda Goodnight Review "The Memory House is a beautiful, rich, unforgettable story filled with tenderness and heart." -New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestseller, Linda Goodnight is the winner of the RITA and other highly acclaimed awards for her emotional fiction. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. A country girl, she lives in Oklahoma. Readers may contact her through her website: www.lindagoodnight.com
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Nashville, TennesseeFreedom was its own kind of prison. These were the thoughts of Eli Donovan as he scraped drywall mud from his elbow and watched a familiar bronze Buick pull to the curb outside the remodel. With a tug in his gut, Eli tossed the trowel to the ground and straightened. What had he done now?A man stepped out of the Buick and adjusted his blue tie before squinting toward the house. Their eyes met, held for a fraction of a second until Eli looked down. Once upon a time he would have challenged anyone in a staring contest. Hard time and maturity had changed him. He didn't want to fight anyone anymore. Certainly not his parole officer.Saying nothing, Eli started across the greening lawn, past the scattered remains of lumber and construction junk. He was no longer arrogant and proud, but the jitter in his belly shamed him just the same."Eli." Mr. Clifford spoke first, broke the impasse. "How's it going?""Fine." He stopped two feet from the fortysomething officer of the court, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on the other man's balding head. Anxious, afraid of tripping himself up, he waited for Clifford to speak his business."I had a phone call this morning."Still Eli waited, not knowing what to ask or say. If he misspoke, Clifford would get the wrong idea or ask questions Eli couldn't answer. There were always questions.The parole officer pulled a paper from his pocket and pushed it toward him. "A woman name of Opal Kimble tracked you down through the warden. She wants to talk to you. Says she has something urgent to discuss. Mentioned the name Mindy."Eli stared at the yellow Post-it note, the dread deepening. He licked dry lips, tasted drywall mud. "Mindy?""Is there anything I need to know? If you're into something—"Eli interrupted. "I'm not. Mindy is an old friend. Did Opal say anything else?""No, she just left that number and insisted I contact you. I thought it might be important.""Doubtful." Mindy was a sweet soul. She probably felt sorry for him and wanted to be sure he was all right. He refused to consider the other issue, certain she was better off not hearing from him."You could use a friend."The comment took Eli aback. In the six months he'd known Pete Clifford, the man had shown him nothing but suspicion, as if he couldn't wait for the ex-con to step out of line so he could send him back to that stinking rat hole."I'm all right.""Do you have a phone yet?""No."Clifford extracted his from a belt holster. "Call her."Eli considered only a moment before accepting the offer. No point in riling the man. He could make a call to an old woman he'd never met. Find out what she wanted and then get back to work. He needed the payday.He took a moment to study the fancy cell phone. A lot had changed since he'd been gone. Technology marched on, as they said, and left the caged behind.As he tapped in the numbers Eli was gratified when Clifford turned toward his vehicle. "I'll give you a minute.""Thanks." The word was gravel on Eli's tongue but he was grateful. He didn't take acts of kindness lightly.A woman's voice, stronger than he'd expected from the aunt Mindy had described as ancient, answered the call."Miss Kimble? Eli Donovan.""About time you called, boy."Her tone stiffened his spine but he remained silent. He focused elsewhere, as he'd learned to do in the difficult moments inside the big house, letting her talk while he only half listened. A pair of courting bluebirds caught Eli's eye as they dipped and flirted. He smiled a little, though the action felt stiff and unfamiliar. Since his release, he'd been mesmerized by nature. The rising sun, a fluttering butterfly, a dog sniffing tires. Nature brought a peace, a rightness to his tumultuous soul. In his despair and self-pity, he'd forgotten those simple gifts he'd once taken for granted.In his ear, Opal said something that captured his attention. He tuned back in. "What did you say?""I said, Mindy left some things for you and I want you to come get them."He frowned toward the horizon where a single gray cloud hovered like a promise of trouble. "Left things? Isn't she there?"A beat of silence pulsed in his ear, tightened the knot in his chest.When Opal spoke again, her tone softened. "I thought you knew. Mindy's gone.""Gone where?" Not that he'd follow or make contact, but the woman was confusing him."Gone for good, Eli." Opal's voice cracked. "Mindy died."2Peach Orchard Inn Present DayShe'd kissed him goodbye that last morning. Julia was sure she had. Wasn't she? The action had been so ingrained in routine. Grab the backpack, stick the lunch box in his hand and kiss him, quick and sweet, before he galloped to the bus stop. She'd watched him get on the bus. She always did, though afterward she'd second-guessed a thousand times. If she'd driven him to school, or if she'd kept him home, because hadn't he been a sleepyhead that last wonderful, terrible morning?Six years had passed and yet the horror and grief never left. It was the not knowing that drove Julia Presley quietly mad. In those moments of solitude, especially right before sleep and like now, upon waking, the thoughts would come in rapid-fire succession before she had a chance to block them. She'd become adept at blocking.Most days she survived and some days she even thrived. But days like today were the worst. Michael's birthday. He was still alive. She had to believe that. Yet, wondering who had him and what was happening or had happened was too hard to bear. But bear it she did, for what choice did she have? Someday, somewhere, someone would spot him in a crowd or he would simply walk free of his captors and come home. Such miracles still happened, and those children once lost but now found gave Julia hope.He would be fourteen today, no longer the wide-eyed little boy who hated baths and adored mud puddles. Was he tall and loose limbed like his father, and wouldn't he be heartbroken to know his mom and dad had unraveled within a year without him? That he was the glue holding their ragged marriage together and that in his absence, they'd been unable to comfort each other? They'd laid blame where none was due, such a stupid reaction to a heinous crime. The only person at fault was the evil being who'd snatched a happy little boy from a peaceful town where nothing bad ever happened. And yet, she felt responsible. Mikey was, after all, her child to guard and guide and she'd failed in that essential role of motherhood.Dragging herself from beneath the ice-blue duvet, Julia reached first for the iPad on the nightstand. With a poke of a finger, she tapped open the Facebook page where Mikey's bright eight-year-old face smiled out at her next to a computer-aged photo. Would he really look like this today?She trolled the comments, saw the handful of birthday wishes and closed the program with a sigh. No news. No sightings. Just like every day since she'd started the page with the help of a support group. Other mothers who waited for their children to come home. Most days she didn't visit the forums for idle conversation. They depressed her, and Lord knew she couldn't go back down that dark tunnel again.With a breathed plea for strength to get through another day, Julia dressed and dabbed makeup on the shadowy half-moons beneath her eyes. Though dawn had yet to break, she had to get up and get moving. She had guests to attend, breakfast to cook and a myriad other tasks to address. Keeping busy was important, soothing therapy. Culinary therapy, she termed her cooking obsession. If she worked herself into exhaustion, she could sleep without the oppressive dreams.She was thankful every day for the rather inexplicable purchase four years ago of Peach Orchard Inn, this big, old oddity of a Southern mansion, now a guesthouse. There was something benevolent about the two-story structure that had survived a Civil War and the century and a half since. The day Valery had dragged her out here "just to look," the house had wrapped itself around her like a warm hug. Though cobwebs and dust had covered everything, her heart had leaped. For the first time in months—years—she'd felt something other than despair. This wonderful old bed-and-breakfast had, quite literally, saved her sanity. She'd yet to understand why. It simply had.She'd clung to her former home on Sage Street—Mikey's home—too long, fearing her son would return and find her gone, but she was dying there. Depressed, barely able to get out of bed each morning, and some days she didn't get up at all. Since a dead mother was not what she wanted her son to come home to, at her family's urging Julia had sold the modern brick home and moved into a piece of history sorely in need of restoration. In that way, she and the house were the same.Everyone in Honey Ridge knew about Mikey's disappearance, but most were Southern enough to speak of the loss only among themselves and never to her. She was left alone and they, along with her family, pretended that she was a normal person, an ordinary divorced businesswoman running a guest inn and clinging to history—her own and that of this antebellum house.She was stuck in the past, both in the distant and the near. Stuck. In freeze-frame for six years, waiting, unable to move forward, unwilling to give up that gossamer thread of hope that one day she'd awaken and Mikey's disappearance would only have been a nightmare.Bingo, the aging Australian shepherd, rose from his rug at the foot of her bed. When Julia paused to give his blue-merle head a rub, she spotted an object on the floor where he'd slept. At first she thought it was a rock and bent to pick it up, puzzling to discover another smooth, round child's marble. Not an ordinary, modern marble. This one was reddish in color, made of clay, a handmade antique like the others she'd discovered in the house."Did you bring this in here, Bingo?" He was forever bringing her little gifts. "Better than the dead snake you brought last time."She rolled the child's toy in her palm, wondering. She and Valery had found a number of interesting and historic items during the ongoing remodel, each one adding another layer of mystery and history to the old inn. But the marbles were different. They showed up randomly, usually in a place she'd recently cleaned and always on a bad day. They spoke to her, comforted her, and wouldn't Mama have a fit to hear that her unbalanced daughter was now communing with marbles."She'd say I've lost my marbles." Maybe she had.Grasping comfort where she could, Julia slipped the little clay ball into her pocket and started toward the kitchen.Bingo trotted by her side past the wide stairs that led from floor to floor. Though not as grand as the one in Gone with the Wind, the staircase had captivated Julia on sight. She imagined a nineteenth-century bride sweeping down these now burgundy carpeted stairs, one gloved hand on the gleaming oak banister as her heart canted toward her true love waiting next to the enormous marble fireplace in the parlor below.Fantasy, yes, like the comforting marbles, but a house like this allowed a certain imaginative license. Part of a Southern upbringing is to believe history lingers in walls and whispers from ancient oaks, and though she believed in so little these days, she believed that. This house was a living entity and Julia had carefully listened as she and Valery worked to create an inn worthy of a special trip to a small town in rural Tennessee. An inn where others might find peace even if the owner couldn't.Sometimes, when she sat on the enormous wraparound porch, Julia thought she heard the rattle of carriages and horse hooves between the double row of old magnolias. She was careful to tell no one about the incidents. Nor of the time she'd felt a cool, soothing hand on her forehead after a screaming nightmare about Mikey; nor of the little boy's laughter she sometimes imagined in the upper hallway. A woman with a slender hold on sanity had to be careful about her wild imagination, for that is all it was. Julia didn't believe in ghosts or spirits or even much in God anymore.She'd once made the mistake of sharing one of the episodes with Valery, a confession that had driven her sister to the liquor cabinet. That was a move Julia did not want to repeat. Valery and liquor were a troubling pair, especially since her sister's latest battles with Jed the jerk, the worst boyfriend in history.Though she and Valery were close, Julia had learned to keep her thoughts and grief to herself. No one understood. They expected her to move on and forget she'd had a son, a husband, a family. To forget she'd had a happy, almost perfect life until that horrible October morning.Rounding into the kitchen, a late addition to the house, Julia flipped on lights and went straight for the coffee and oven dials. She might never win any chef awards but she loved to feed people.Though her specialty was peach tea made from scratch, her coffee was good, too, a unique blend she ground herself and served French press. Guests were known to linger for hours over coffee, so she started there. The breakfast menu varied but always included a peach dish, mostly with fruit from her orchard. People expected peaches from an inn with a name like Peach Orchard.In minutes, the ham-and-egg strata was ready for the oven, the peach-muffin batter spread among the tins, and the coffee sang its aromatic siren song. Taking a cup, Julia went out onto the front porch for her favorite time of day. With only the dog for company, she sat in one of four white wicker chairs to watch the sun break over the lawn and come sneaking through the waxy-leaved magnolias and fuchsia rhododendron. Last night's rain glistened like tiny crystals on the verdant grass while Old Glory hung limply from the white-board porch rail.Julia made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. Valery had forgotten to bring in the flag again last night, a clear breach of etiquette that would have the townspeople on the phone if anyone had driven past. Hopefully, no one had. Backed by woods, Peach Orchard Inn was off the main thoroughfare on the edge of town. Mikey would have loved this place. Room to run and explore and be a little boy in safety.But safe was a relative term.The house was shielded from the road by a thick stand of leafy trees, including the showy pink blooms of the peach orchard that ran to the right of the front lawn and down the north side. Sometimes she heard a car go by but mostly not. The small-town peace and quiet was one of the draws of her little guesthouse.
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful. The Memory House By K. Branfield The Memory House by Linda Goodnight is a heartfelt novel of redemption, forgiveness and healing. This beautifully written story has two gentle and sweet romances that take place in two different time periods, but they both tie together in the present at a renovated plantation which is now a Bed and Breakfast. It is a very charming novel with very light supernatural elements that I greatly enjoyed and highly recommend.In the present, Julia Presley is still deeply mourning the loss of her son six years earlier, but opening the B&B with her sister Valery has given her a measure of peace. She is slowly rebuilding the life that slipped away during her deep depression after losing her son Mikey and she loves taking care the visitors that stay at the Peach Orchard Inn. While she and Valery completed many of the renovations on their property, there is still work that needs to be in some of the outlying buildings and she agrees to newcomer Eli Donovan’s offer to complete the project at a steep discount along with room and board.Eli and Julia are both struggling to overcome the tragedies of their respective pasts. Julia is a little further along in the healing process while Eli is just beginning to pick up the pieces of his tattered life. Both are keeping secrets but Eli’s are much more serious and could have a detrimental effect on Julia’s emotional well being and her B&B. Right away, Eli is forced to admit the reason he is town is his young son Alex and while Julia is dismayed at this revelation, she allows him to continue working for her. But it is not until unforeseen circumstances force Eli to take more responsibility for Alex that true healing begins for Eli, Alex and surprisingly, Julia.In the past, Charlotte Reed Portland finds her life upended when Union soldiers arrive at the plantation where she lives with her husband and young son, Benjamin. She unexpectedly finds common ground with Captain William “Will” Gadsden as they work together nursing his wounded men. Their feelings for one another soon run much deeper than friendship but there seems to be no future for them since Charlotte is married and Will eventually returns to battle. Will and Charlotte secretly exchange letters that Julia and Eli discover during the B&B renovations and they are both captivated by the Civil War era romance that has a few parallels to the difficulties they are currently experiencing.Although Linda Goodnight tackles some very serious topics in The Memory House, the novel is surprisingly free of angst and very uplifting. The storyline is hopeful as both Julia and Eli break free from the sorrow of their pasts while they unexpectedly find love. Their romance is sweet and while it is slow growing, this makes their relationship more believable. All in all, it is an immensely satisfying journey of healing and redemption that fans of contemporary romances are sure to love.I received a complimentary copy for review.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. Tragedy and loss, grief and hope. By OLT (3.5 stars) The overriding theme in this book is loss in many forms, loss of a child or a parent, loss of the feeling of self-worth, loss of family, loss of love, and the grief and despair which accompanies the loss. The author herself mentions her 'intimate acquaintance' with the pain of loss at the death of her son Travis, and one hopes that the writing of this story was a helpful catharsis for her.Goodnight's characters suffer sadness, pain and grief here, but, in the story, just as in life, there is always hope, and the optimistic tone makes for a heartwarming and uplifting read. Perhaps the characters' issues are resolved too easily here, but then a book must have a finite number of pages and there's just so much angst and despair that most readers are up for.There are two stories here, one in present day Honey Ridge, Tennessee, and one in the same setting during the time of the Civil War. Both take place at Peach Orchard, a farm and mill in the 1860s belonging to the Portland family and now the Peach Orchard Inn being run by our main present-day protagonist. Julia Presley runs the Peach Orchard Inn after the disappearance of her young son six years ago and the subsequent disintegration of her marriage. After years of depression and despair, she is now managing to cope but not really live.Eli Donovan, recently released from a 7-year prison sentence, comes into her life when he arrives in Honey Ridge to meet the 6-year-old son he's never known, a boy living with his grandmother after the death of his mother. Both Eli and Julia have suffered losses and part of their healing comes through the discovery of the history of Peach Orchard and some old love letters between Charlotte Portland (unhappily married to the owner of Peach Orchard farm) and the Union Army officer who takes over the farmhouse as a hospital for his wounded soldiers.Both stories have people who have suffered losses and grief and are intertwined by the setting and by a certain supernatural element (rather subdued) involved. Although this small supernatural element wasn't my favorite addition to the story, the book has characters you'll like and the story moved smoothly and pleasingly and leaves you with a feeling of hope for the future.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. Don't miss this one! By WRB Fans of historical fiction and romance will be riveted and deeply moved by this rich and compelling novel. The author skillfully merges together two story lines, present day and civil war era. The writing is descriptive and inviting, drawing you into the character’s lives.Present Day - Julia Presley was still feeling the horrors from six years ago when her six-year-old son, Mikey, had been abducted and never found. Her marriage had dissolved within a year of Mikey’s disappearance, and she was suffering loss, grief and betrayal. Julia was keeping busy at the point of exhaustion, taking care of a bed-and-breakfast she’d purchased. The Peach Orchard Inn was a two story Southern mansion, which had survived a Civil war and the century and a half since. Julia didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits, but strange things had been happening at the Inn, and history seemed to be lingering in the walls and crevices of the mansion.Eli Donavan was a man with a criminal record who’d spent seven years in prison. He was carrying a lot of shame and remorse, even after six months of freedom. He’s been contacted that he has a six-year-old son. A son he’s never met and doesn’t even know his name. The boy’s mother was dead and it was up to Eli to raise him. Eli was certain he was not fit to be a father. He needed work to provide for his son and started at the Peach Orchard Inn doing odd jobs for Julia in exchange for room, board, and a small salary. Julia is all the things he appreciates in a woman, and a tender romance develops, but not without problems.Civil War-1864 – Peach Orchard Farm had been home to three generations of Portland’s, including Charlotte Portland’s husband, Edgar, and their nine year-old-son, Benjamin. Charlotte had fallen in love with the house when she was a bride of sixteen. Edgar was a strange man, and she despaired at ever fully knowing him. He was not an affectionate man, full of hatred, bitterness, and with wounds running deep inside. She was never able to fully love Edgar. Union soldiers, who were in need of a house to use as a temporary hospital, had suddenly invaded their quiet country life.Captain William Gadsden, a decent and caring man, led the Union soldiers. The Captain promised Charlotte that no harm would come to her or her family. The soldiers respected the Captain, and Charlotte was convinced that he was a good and godly man.The Yankee Captain regularly sought out Charlotte and paid much attention to her and her son. The Captain certainly complicated her life – their paths should’ve never crossed. She was a woman married to a Confederate and was determined to stay faithful to her husband. She was fearful of displeasing God, even if being unfaithful was only in her heart. It was a forbidden love and they both were yearning for something out of reach.And the story unfolds with the author cleverly tying together two story-lines with strong parallels. The Memory House is an uplifting, feel good read. My rating – 5 stars.I received a complimentary copy of this book from Harlequin via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
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