Tuesday Special: Weeping Women Springs

TAMARA EATON

https://tamaraeatonnovels.weebly.com

A magical Spring of Hope was their protection--or so they thought...

The tranquil little town of Hope Springs, New Mexico is shattered on December 7, 1941. All the village boys go to fight, leaving their families behind to pray for their safety. Their hope knows no boundaries the boys will return unharmed—for they have a secret. The Spring delivers hope to all who drink from it.

They’ve kept this secret for years, but all is lost when tragedy strikes. Their grief dilutes the magical waters. The wives, mothers, and sisters have no option but to face the loss on their own. They struggle to find hope again, while withdrawing further from the world. Yet another war looms on the horizon and even the measures they’ve taken cannot protect them.

An exploration of the various facets of sorrow and its effects, Weeping Women Springs is “like finding a scrapbook long hidden” of interviews, letters, journal entries and poems. The novel is “intriguing and mysterious.” “A “beautifully wrought story,” which will make you think long “after you finish it.” –Various Amazon Reviewers

Amazon        Apple        Barnes & Noble        Kobo

Scribd        24 Symbols        Playster        Indigo

Angus & Robertson        Mondadoristore



We hope you enjoy this excerpt!

I DIDN’T ALWAYS WANT to hide. The Council made sure we hid the water from the start, but I would rather have gone out into the world. Hope Springs was a good place to grow up. Once I reached high school, I dreamed of going places. Did you know that? You came to town later, so I never shared that with you. The Council wants us to tell you the secrets so you can report everything that happened, maybe we won’t be forgotten.

You only see what is left, middle-aged and old women who teeter on unsteady legs, searching for balance that is never quite there, the dusty roads, the faded buildings, the closed up businesses, all but Fiekens’ General Store. Maxine always kept that open, even after—no I’m getting ahead of myself. Remind me to stay on track. It’s always best to start a story at the beginning, then maybe you’ll understand.

On that crisp December afternoon the air wafted over me cool and brisk. That morning I went to church with my family like every other Sunday. Maxine didn’t attend church, not since her parents died in an accident the year before. Anna Frolander never did attend church much, but I couldn’t pass judgment, not then or ever.

Maxine spent Sunday afternoons with us kids at the gym when the boys practiced basketball, and well, we girls practiced watching the boys.

I met up with Maxine at the store, but I’d seen the new carving, so I wasn’t surprised when she shared the latest.

“Have I got news for you.” Maxine’s voice sang over the aisles of canned goods and staples. It was like my old friend was back, happier than I’d seen her in so long.

“Does it have anything to do with the new heart on the Sweetheart Tree? Spotted it this morning after church.” I waited at the front door and hooked my arm into her elbow when she came up to me. We headed down the dusty street toward the high school. My friend almost skipped beside me.

Her face glowed. “Yes,” she said with a little squeal. “Billy asked me last night. Liv, you’ll be my maid of honor, right?”

I hugged her hard. “You bet. When’s the wedding?”

“Not until school’s out.”

“Let’s hurry. I’m sure Billy’s eager to see you.” I pulled her along faster toward the gymnasium.

On that quiet Sunday, few people were outside. We waved to my mother’s good friend, Anna, who was sweeping her front walk. An early snow dusted the craggy mountains in the distance, but the moderate temperature promised a mild winter. The surrounding mountains and hills sheltered Hope Springs in a verdant valley. It made hiding easier then and later when it became more necessary. Our seclusion saved our lives or perhaps it ended them. I suppose you’ll be the judge of that when the story’s told.

We stepped inside the gym. The basketball players’ shoes screeched on the wood floor. The boys practiced non-stop since the big game on Tuesday with our rival, Tularosa High, loomed in our future. We’d lost the last game with them, and we wanted to make the state playoffs.

The ball whooshed through the net.

“Billy made a good shot,” I said and Maxine just grinned. “So tell me about the proposal. Did he get down on one knee?”

“No. He made my favorite sundae at the store and put a little toothpick with a flag on top. On the flag were the words, ‘Will you?’”

Billy had loved her it seemed like forever, so I wasn’t surprised, but his parents weren’t a fan of the idea. “Did he decide to stay in town and run the store with you?”

“Mother and Papa would have approved, don’t you think?” Her question came out breathless as she searched for confirmation.

I squeezed her hand. “I’m sure they would have.”

The excitement of a moment ago faded from her eyes, replaced with the haunting pain of grief. At least while watching the boys, Maxine could be a girl again. I worried about her since she’d quit school to run her family’s store. On Sundays and game days she closed the door and warmed a seat on the bleachers, cheering Billy Fiekens on. She hadn’t lost her place in our class of 1942, though she wouldn’t graduate with the rest of us. Without Maxine we’d only have thirteen on stage for the ceremony in May. She had confided to me she hoped to get her diploma after marrying Billy, if he could watch the store.

“His parents approve of it?” I asked.

Maxine closed her eyes a moment. The hesitation spoke volumes. Over the last year, I had watched her deal with the unthinkable. I couldn’t imagine losing one parent, let alone both. My poor, gentle Maxine, who always had a kind word of encouragement for me whenever I grew tired of waiting to leave town, withdrew even deeper into herself after the accident. With the proposal, I saw signs of her sorrow lifting.

“They still want him to go to UNM?” I asked.

“Yes.” Maxine clenched her green cotton skirt before smoothing it down. “I kept telling him to go ahead and attend school. Teaching is so important to him. He just said, ‘If your parents were still alive, I’d do it, we’d go together and live in Albuquerque.’ Then he’d mention selling the store.”

“You could sell the store, but—”

“I can’t do that, not yet. It’s too soon. Besides, Billy’s parents can’t afford to support us both. Who would buy a store in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

I laughed. “Or if the Council would even let you sell. I’m sure they’d have to authorize it.”

The door at the end of the gym burst open and little Eddie Frolander ran inside. “The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor!” he shouted. “Melvin’s dad heard it on his radio.”

Everything went silent, all but the bouncing ball echoing through the gymnasium. The players surrounded Eddie and everyone began talking at once.

“Where’s Pearl Harbor?” Maxine asked me.

“I don’t know,” I answered. We climbed down the bleachers to join the players.

Nine-year-old Eddie’s words tripped over one another. “I dunno any details, but Mr. Bracht said to tell everyone. He said we might be at war and spread the word.”

“War.” The word was murmured repeatedly through the crowd.

“Pearl Harbor is in Hawaya. The president said they bombed the navy base there.” Eddie’s dark hair fell over his eyes.

Maxine rushed over to Billy and he threw a sweaty arm around her shoulders. At that moment, I longed for a shoulder to lean on too.

Donnie Frolander, Eddie’s older brother, sidled up to me. “If we’ve been attacked, what will it mean?”

“Surely the president will tell us what to do.” I said. “President Roosevelt has seen us through a lot already.”

“Maybe we ought to head over to Mr. Bracht’s house,” Billy suggested.

“The Council was mad when Mr. Bracht bought a battery radio last year,” Donnie said. “But maybe this is a good reason to have a radio in town. Imagine if we didn’t find out until Tuesday when Tularosa comes to play the game. Boy, would we look dumb.”

I itched to tell Donnie to keep his opinions of the Council to himself, but swallowed the urge. Too late anyway. The other young people muttered an agreement, falling into their common theme of whining about the Council’s decisions. Uncle Jim’s words echoed in my mind. “You youngsters have no real idea what it means to this town to keep us isolated as much as possible. Besides you have opportunities enough to get outside, go to Tularosa or over to Alamogordo to the movie house.”  Arguments of the young people wanting more freedom, and wishing to see the world, or letting more visitors in to see us always fell on deaf ears. Freedom wasn’t in the Council’s vocabulary.

From the time I started school, my parents and other adults in the community drilled into us the necessity of keeping the secret. On the verge of adulthood, me and my friends questioned the rules set up by the founding fathers. I pushed the thought away. War on the horizon? What did it mean to Hope Springs?

Tamara Eaton is a "western woman." She lives in the southwest USA, and wide-open spaces of the desert and prairie are often portrayed in her work--fiction and poetry. Several of her stories have been published online and in print. When she isn't writing, she is often editing for others. Weeping Women Springs is her debut novel.

Facebook        Twitter

 

Meet Tamara Eaton

The Write Way Café welcomes Tamara Eaton, who started with 'what if' and ended with Weeping Women Springs.

When did you first have the thought you'd like to write a book? Was that first thought related to writing romance?
I started writing a Nancy Drew take-off in sixth grade. We’d call it fan-fic now. So I thought about writing a book early on. In high school, I thought I’d write a romance novel and figured I’d have it written by the time I was 25. Well, that ended up being put on hold for a long time. When I finally returned to writing I didn’t write in the romance genre.

What was your path to getting this book written and published? What type of research did you do?
My path was a long one for this first book. This story had been on my mind since college, but I was 47 when I sat down to write for National Novel Writing Month and on November 1 needed a story idea so that old idea came to me and I started to write. That first draft I didn’t do much research, just wrote a story. After I finished that draft I did the research. In historical fiction, I find that research often becomes a rabbit hole that once you start you end up lost for hours if not days. For me, I try not to get too lost in specifics, but I want it to sound authentic and I am careful to get the facts right of things outside my fictional world. Most of my research was online, though I’m fortunate enough to live with a WWII history buff who gave me lots of ideas. He makes documentary films and we’ve interviewed a lot of WWII vets as well as some of the women who either served or worked in the war factories. That became helpful background.

Where did the idea for your story come from?
As I mentioned the story was one I had in college. I imagined this town filled with women who had hidden themselves away from the world. It all starts with what if—and then I needed to figure out why they would do this and Weeping Women Springs was born. I think I needed a lot more maturity to write the story it eventually became.

Why did you pick the setting you did?
Weeping Women Springs is set in New Mexico and I chose that place because I needed somewhere isolated. Originally the village was set in Arizona, but for a variety of reasons I switched it to New Mexico, primarily because I’d lived in NM for quite a few years and loved the state.

Are your main characters completely imaginary or do they have some basis in real people? Do they reflect aspects of yourself?
My characters are completely fictional except for a few minor ones except for names. I’ve borrowed names from various people in my life. Maxine Fiekens was a sweet neighbor in SD and her daughter Peggy, the postmistress of the village we spend our summers in. So I borrowed Maxine’s name and Peggy’s name and put them in Hope Springs. Peggy has the same profession she had when I met her, running the post office. All characters are parts of me I suppose, at least things I’ve seen people do or imagine them doing.

Did you face any blocks while writing the book, and if so, how did you handle them? If not, what's your secret?
Since I edit for other people, my blocks usually come from outside sources. It’s easy to let their stories come before mine. However, on the writing front, I faced a couple obstacles in getting the story right. For example, when I started I knew little of Point of View and why you should stick with one character. I also had all kinds of characters in there telling their stories, so I had to whittle it down to five main characters.

What have been surprises you've encountered while writing the book and after?
I think the biggest surprise was how little I knew about writing a story, even after being a lifelong reader and had written stories before. When I set out to put something down, there were so many details I didn’t know and had to learn. I’ve learned since there is no right or wrong way to do it, but sometimes we get lost in the process and guidelines and I had to figure out what worked for me and my story.

What did you learn? For instance, what did you learn about yourself, your process, the writing world; about the effects of World War II and the Korean Conflict on women left behind?
I rather answered this question for the last one, but the primary lesson I learned was about grief and moving on—and I took this to the extremes where each character represented a different aspect(s) of the grieving process. I learned a lot about individual events of the war, mainly as they fitted in with my timeline I’d look for an event which happened in the war at that time and that led me to different battles which we don’t necessarily hear about, such as Attu in Alaska.

What are some of your favorite books and why? 
One of my favorite authors is Barbara Kingsolver. I loved The Poisonwood Bible and The Lacuna. Both of these stories had some influence on my book’s structure.

What are you working on now?
Currently, I’m attempting to finish up my second novel set against the backdrop of a coal mining disaster in 1913 Dawson, New Mexico, the second deadliest mining disaster in US history. The bulk of the story takes place over one night when three women bond while waiting for news of their husbands. It’s called The Waiting Shadows, and has been well-received by those who have read parts of it. I still have a couple more scenes to write and a thorough revision to go through. I’ve been working on this one for two years, and hope to have it done in the spring.

Would you like to try your hand at writing a different genre?  Which one and why?
Actually the idea I have for my next book will be in a different genre. I imagine it being a bit of a suspense/thriller type story and set more in the present than I’ve written before though the roots of the story are in the late 60s.

What aspect of writing gives you the most trouble?
I’m a terrible procrastinator for my own stories. I do great if I have a deadline, but left to my own devices, I put off making time for it. My goal is to become more disciplined and make sure I work on my own stories every day.

Thank you for having me!

Hope Springs has a secret–the waters mysteriously uplift the spirits of whoever drinks them. When the town’s young men depart to fight in WWII, tragedy strikes. Grief dilutes the waters unique effects, and hiding the village away from the world may provide shelter from the pain—but at what cost? Preoccupied with honoring their loved ones’ memories, five shattered women struggle to gather strength to overcome their loss, and find hope again.

Amazon

Tamara Eaton is a "western woman." She lives in the southwest, and wide open spaces of the desert and prairie are often portrayed in her work--fiction and poetry. Several of her stories have been published online and in print. When she isn't writing, she is often editing for others. Weeping Women Springs is her first novel.

Website     Facebook    Twitter: @LiteraryTamara