The Moon Sisters: A Novel
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After their mother's probable suicide, sisters Olivia and Jazz take steps to move on with their lives. Jazz, logical and forward-thinking, decides to get a new job, but spirited, strong-willed Olivia--who can see sounds, taste words, and smell sights--is determined to travel to the remote setting of their mother's unfinished novel to lay her spirit properly to rest.
Already resentful of Olivia's foolish quest and her family's insistence upon her involvement, Jazz is further aggravated when they run into trouble along the way and Olivia latches to a worldly train-hopper who warns he shouldn't be trusted. As they near their destination, the tension builds between the two sisters, each hiding something from the other, until they are finally forced to face everything between them and decide what is really important.
on special today if you’d like to try that.” Buffalo? Cilantro? I wasn’t even sure what those things would taste like. Maybe chicken. Everything was supposed to taste like chicken. “Or maybe you’d like a slice of pie,” she said as I chewed my lip. “We’ve got some real nice lemon meringue today.” “I do love pie,” I told her. “Smart girl,” she said. “My name’s Rocky. Whistle if you need anything.” I wished whistling would work. I’d whistle for a week. The thought of going back to everything as
know he can be an annoying son of a bitch who tries to control things he shouldn’t and is harder to shake than a dug-in tick.” “I grabbed that catfish by the snout, Lord I pulled that catfish out!” “But he’s got a tent you’d like,” Hobbs said, “and you’ll never go hungry with him around. Red, he knows how to fish.” “Olivia. Now,” said Jazz, closing in on me. There had to be some truth in it somewhere—a kind of rule or law of physics. Two control-freak types together would keep each other
lifetime?” “Because I’m ruined, Livya,” he said. Something in his voice nudged my memory toward an ancient misery. I veered sharply away from that, even as my fingers curled around the smooth stone I’d pocketed earlier. “Well, I’ve been ruined, too, several times over, so we’re even,” I told him, trying for funny. His voice ruffled like peacock feathers. “Is that so?” I took a chance and stepped close again. This time he didn’t move away. “I think you want me around even if you won’t admit
sting of salt and dirt and exhaustion behind my lids. Tried to tally the amount of sleep I’d had since leaving home. Couldn’t honestly recall. Breathed. Counted to a hundred. Shifted my legs. Opened my eyes. This, at least, was normal. I rarely had an easy time falling asleep, even when I was dog-tired. Olivia, on the other hand, could sleep anywhere, at any time, as if she’d dipped into the genetic pond that was our mother’s tendency for constant sleepiness enough never to be troubled by
“The mountains of West Virginia, they go on and on. Sometimes seems they go on forever. But I’ve been beyond that blue-gray and silver, and I can tell you there’s plenty more to see. Somehow, though—” He gave a shake of his head, a wry smile. “Somehow this place gets in your blood.” We stood there for long minutes, as something like pride welled up in my chest. This state, this land, was mine, and I’d forgotten how to love it. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t imagine living life without ’em,” Olivia