To read or not to read... about the power of love, family and magic.
To read or no to read...that is the question! Read the opening paragraphs of this novel and you decide...
All the Amore siblings had The sight in varying degrees, and its fickleness got us into trouble sometimes. Like the time when I was young (and still talking) and I called my friends husband to give my condolences about her death in a trolley crash, only my friend was still alive and the trolley wouldn't crash until the next day.
It was hard to explain that one, and harder still to keep my friend off the trolley the following day, even though I knew her life was at stake. Regular peoplehave such a hard time listening to the low hum of instinct. Don't get me wrong, I tire of the magic now that I'm old. But still, if I'd had it all to do over, I'd choose magic ways. Especially now, when another, more precious life is at stake.
She's coming abck now, the girl. She's coming back and bringing my memories with her. Maybe she won't remember anything. Dear God, don't let her remember. If she remembers, she'll land straight back in harms way. If she remembers, my promise will be broken. And that'd be too bad because it's one of my best skills, promise keeping. And secret keeping. And cartwheels too.
I used to be able to do cartwheels. When we were little, my sisters couldn't but I could. I can still feel how the air shifted as I kicked over my head and moved my hands. I liked to do things upside down. It bothered Mama. "All that blood will rush to your head!" she would yell. Not to mention Papa and my skirts. "Cover yourself child! If I can see your bloomers so can the whole block!"
I cartwheeled through my childhood. We weren't poor, but we lived close together. We lived here on 170th Street in the Bronx for the better portion of our lives. Mama and Papa bought the building when they got married. Well Papa won it. In a fight. They used to fight for money in the streets back then, and one day the wager was a building, and practical Papa, who never fought a day in his life, took off his shirt and threw it in the ring.
When we were very young, in those strange, magnificent years between World War I and World War II, we all lived in apartment 1A. Ten people and two bedrooms. Those were the days. Mama was the magic one. She gave us her abilities to see the future, to grow herbs and flowers that held all sorts of magical preparation, but the most important thing she gave us was the gift if each other.
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