Ida's shadow rose erect, and her black-eyed gaze, calm as the eye of the hurricane, rested on Geneva's face. 'Who's the father? Geneva gripped the sheets more tightly, her eyes blurring, her mind struggling to imagine the consequences of answering her question. Victor was in the war. The children were in Massachusetts. Her mind could focus no better than her eyes. Her whole body seized up as another wave of pain engulfed her. 'He can be made to take responsibility, you know. Tell me, said Ida. No. Geneva turned her face aside. She would write a letter to Massachusetts. Please forward. Victor would come home. Then they would face Ida and John Scarborough and the rest of the world, together. 'Well, are you going to tell me? 'N-no. I-I can take care of it. Victor could be here before John Scarborough could make her do anything. Please God 'Um-hum. Was it, by chance, my brother? Dear God. 'Tell me girl, or I give you my word, I won't help you. Geneva felt Victor had delivered her into the hands of a monster. 'Suzanne Morris excels in providing new dimensions to conventional narrative. -Dallas Morning News 'Suzanne Morris writes with all the bark off. dilemmas. She lets the presence of the past lean upon her unsuspecting characters. -Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch

A dynastic tale of two families—the Gerrards and Leiders—as seen through the eyes of four women whose lives are bound by blood and friendship, and interwoven with the destiny of Houston, Texas, for over 70 years.

The Great European War and the threat of revolution in Mexico cast suspicion and distrust over the tranquil plazas of the sleepy Texas town of San Antonio, and two women find their lives and destinies entangled in romance, intrigue, and espionage.

A powerful and absorbing story of three women whose lives shaped—and were inevitably shaped by—the success and failure of a city; a story that strangely parallels the intriguing history of this island of lost dreams.

Springing from the London School explosion in rural New London, Texas, Aftermath begins more than forty years later, when the narrator recalls the dreadful day she lost her mother and many of her schoolmates. As she weighs both the joys and the sorrows of the life, she eventually comes to terms with the reality that the tragedy can never be overcome, but it can, in significant ways, be redeemed.

When the young child of Monica and Forrest Maguire is diagnosed as being autistic, it plunges the mother into an agony of uncertainty and guilt, and threatens the fragile marriage of this middle-class couple.

Ida's shadow rose erect, and her black-eyed gaze, calm as the eye of the hurricane, rested on Geneva's face. 'Who's the father?"

Geneva gripped the sheets more tightly, her eyes blurring, her mind struggling to imagine the consequences of answering her question. Victor was in the war. The children were in Massachusetts. Her mind could focus no better than her eyes. Her whole body seized up as another wave of pain engulfed her.

'He can be made to take responsibility, you know. Tell me," said Ida.

No. Geneva turned her face aside. She would write a letter to Massachusetts. "Please forward." Victor would come home. Then they would face Ida and John Scarborough and the rest of the world, together.

'Well, are you going to tell me?"

'N-no. I-I can take care of it." Victor could be here before John Scarborough could make her do anything. "Please God "

'Um-hum. Was it, by chance, my brother?"

"Dear God."

'Tell me girl, or I give you my word, I won't help you."

Geneva felt Victor had delivered her into the hands of a monster.

'Suzanne Morris excels in providing new dimensions to conventional narrative." -"Dallas Morning News"

'Suzanne Morris writes with all the bark off. She has a capacious imagination for characterization and psychological dilemmas. She lets the presence of the past lean upon her unsuspecting characters." -"Columbus" (Ohio) "Dispatch"