The Album by Sandra White, Judith Huey

From the Publisher

Catherine Rowan Montgomery has had a good life as an acclaimed artist, a much-loved wife, mother, and grandmother. But after her husband dies and her own ability to care for herself is lessened by illness, she begins to live a nightmare as a victim of elder abuse. Afraid of one thing above all else--the loss of her dignity--she tells no one of her plight, of the mistreatment she endures at the hand of her self-centered and cruel daughter-in-law. She struggles alone, often with only an old photo album to comfort her.

Details from Seller

• ISBN: 1581240821
• Publisher: Fiction Works, The
• Pub. Date: January 2002
• Condition:

Comments from the Seller: Paperback Very good; Collectible PAPERBACK, SIGNED BY AUTHOR. LIGHT COFFEE STAIN ON CORNER EDGE.

• Read an Excerpt

Read an Excerpt

Cath's hands were shaking badly, but with sheer determination she turned yet another page of the album. Her precious photo album--the quilted fabric worn through in spots, the once colorful yellow rosebuds faded, the embroidered names no longer recognizable.

Photos of Matt graced this page--Matt on his first day of school. His little-boy smile with two missing front teeth grinned up at her.

Next, she found Jack's photograph. Jack breaking ground for a new store--the one at the shopping mall. How she had always loved that picture of Jack.

Her tears flowed freely now, dropping on the pages, leaving dark splotches staining her memories.

The album, smooth from age and scuffed at the corners, began to slide from her lap. Struggling to hold it, she turned to another page--a montage of smiles and laughter. Matt's wedding day. Matt and Rennie. Such a happy day. The wedding of her only child--Matthew John Montgomery.

Cath's fingers scratched at the edges of the thick pages, trying to turn one more. But she couldn't summon the strength. Her vision blurred, and her hands grew numb.

The album slipped to the floor, landing with a thud, some of the old and yellowed photos breaking loose from their pages.

Half-buried in the scattered remnants of her memories lay a bottle--a pill bottle. Empty. The label bore the name, "Catherine Montgomery," and the instructions, "Take Two Daily for Pain."

Her head, white with wisps of unkempt, curly hair, fell to her chest, and her arms, one discolored with fresh bruises, dropped to her sides. A small sob escaped her lips as she whispered, "I'm coming, Jack. I'm coming."