I’ve been told that readers who follow blogs like these enjoy hearing about and reading the segments/passages of the book that didn’t make the final cut. Well if that’s true I have some I can share with you. Now if you’ve read the book you probably will know who the central figure in this is; if not, well, you could find out by reading the book. Now I will say that when I wrote these (and there are more than one) I really liked them and felt they added something to the story but one of my prepublication readers felt it added too much so, on review, so I decided to take them out. Maybe someone out there, someone who has read Seeking Glory especially, can tell me if it was too much or not. Anyway here it is:
Seeking Glory Outtake #1
A chill wind originating off the Pacific Ocean blew down the narrow San Francisco side street, stirring the same litter of discarded paper and fast food containers, the gray sky and damp, fog-dulled air feeding an aura of dismal futility. People huddled against the wind, arms crossed over their sweaters, as they made their way up the street, keeping their heads down, ignoring those who leaned against walls and stairwells to protect themselves. No one noticed or cared about the man standing on the curb, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched under his jacket, studying the building on the opposite side of the street. After a few minutes, he glanced up and down a street deserted of traffic, crossed in quick, decisive steps and ascended the stone steps to the rusted grillwork of the building he had come to San Francisco to find. He scanned the mailboxes with their buzzers and, not finding what he wanted, pushed the first one in the row with a name labeled beneath it with some exasperation. He shook his head in amusement at the trusting nature of people as the intercom squawked and the buzzer sounded once he’d given a sufficiently garbled response.Ss
As he stepped inside, the man’s gaze first lingered on the battered tricycle for a moment, then moved upward through the stairwell. Above him, a woman gazed back, her round face with its halo of curls both startled and confused. “Por favor…who is it?”
“Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for someone who I’ve been told lives in this building. This person would be a young woman by the name of Allison LaRue. She has a little girl of about four with her. Do you know which apartment is hers?”
The woman descended a few steps, staring at him with round brown eyes. “Ally? You’re looking for Ally?” A small shake of her head and then “Sorry…but…Ally doesn’t live here any more.”
The man below her cursed under his breath. The woman turned to go but he called her back. “One minute, please. Do you know where she’s gone? Did she have the child with her?”
“No. I mean, Ally died.”
“Died?” Shock and anger filled his voice. “When?”
The woman retreated a couple of steps. “Well, I…I’m not sure…maybe a few weeks ago? A month or so? Not too long.”
She turned to look anxiously up the stairwell, then back down at her questioner. “I’m sorry, I must go now.”
“Wait!” He swallowed his anger and frustration, trying to add a more placating tone. “What happened to the little girl? Do you know where she is?” Images of that precious child lost in the maze of a state foster care system filled his mind, choking off speech. After a few seconds he pulled himself back from that dreaded picture, thinking quickly. What did this woman know after all? What might have Ally confided and to whom?
