Miracle at Santa Anita (Excerpt)

Below is an excerpt from the prologue of my soon to be published novel. The entire passage can be accessed at http://www.scribd.com/doc/152177886/Miracle-at-Santa-Anita-Prologue

October 30, 1963

Hannah traced a figure eight in the dust with her black patent shoes as she sat in the swing. People filed in and out of the house, some with food and others with flowers and bottles of liquor. They gave her sympathetic looks from a distance. No one wanted to smother her. Like her mother Carolyn, she possessed a fierce independence. Unlike her mother, she could take a deep breath and pretend those people were stick figures.

The navy blue dress was not her choice. She wanted the cream colored dress her mother bought for her on their trip to Bloomingdales a month ago. The tags were still attached. Her aunt believed navy to be more appropriate for a funeral. She didn’t know how much Carolyn loved the new dress. She stiffened when she recalled her aunt Jane’s hostility.

“Why aren’t you crying?” Jane asked, dabbing her eyes between short sips of wine.

“I’m always crying, whether you can see it or not,” said Hannah.

Jane grabbed the entire bottle of wine and said, “There’s something really wrong with you” before retreating to the patio.

Hannah clenched teeth when she thought about her drunken aunt. A cab arrived and a dark-headed man wearing a suit and aviator sunglasses emerged. He corralled a little girl with auburn tresses over to Hannah. She climbed into the swing next to her. “Daddy, push me,” she pleaded. He pushed her until she was able to propel herself into the sky. Hannah yearned for that kind of innocence.