Introduction

Annabelle Aster doesn't bow to convention-not even that of space and time-which makes the 1890s Kansas wheat field that has appeared in her modern-day San Francisco garden easy to accept. Even more peculiar is Elsbeth, the truculent schoolmarm who sends Annie letters through the mysterious brass mailbox perched on the picket fence that now divides their two worlds.


Annie and Elsbeth's search for an explanation to the hiccup in the universe linking their homes leads to an unsettling discovery-and potential disaster for both of them. Together they must solve the mystery of what connects them before one of them is convicted of a murder that has yet to happen...and yet somehow already did.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER

TWO

Elsbeth Grundy

March 19, 1895

A wheat field outside Sage, Kansas

Elsbeth Grundy was a loner, and an odd one at that, but company was headed her way whether she liked it or not. She lived in the plains of central Kansas, alone in a cabin that was, to use a charitable word, uncomplicated. It was an austere dwelling with a cast-iron stove, a table and chair, two cabinets, a fireplace, a rocker, and a small bedroom to the rear. Being somewhat prideful of her country habits, Elsbeth had a privy built out back, a decision she often regretted with a few choice words when the weather turned for the worse.

In her bedroom was a tiny closet, and in that tiny closet were three cotton work frocks, two pairs of well-worn overalls, an occasional dress appropriate for a schoolmarm, and a family of field mice that had taken up residence in the latter’s pockets.

Elsbeth wasn’t necessarily inclined to solitude. She’d been a happy woman once, but a bitterness had set in after Tom died and her daughter, Beth Anne, had left to find healing elsewhere. The only company she kept these days was a tattered scarecrow she’d dressed in a seersucker suit, a Panama hat, a mop of white hair, and a thick mustache made of cotton to honor Mark Twain, her hero. There was a chalkboard hanging from its neck on which Elsbeth would occasionally scribble her favorite Twain quotes. Currently, it read, “Go to heaven for the climate and hell for the company,” proving that there were those among the God-fearing who weren’t afraid to poke fun at themselves.

When, on occasion, the loneliness became too much to bear, she would wander out into the field to sit next to her scarecrow and, ignoring her chores, talk until she was tired of hearing the sound of her own voice.

El was not lovely. She was old and dusty. And she spent her evenings sitting in the wooden rocking chair by the fireplace gathering more dust. Inevitably, she had a book in hand, which she read through wire-rim spectacles that took delight in slowly slipping down the bridge of her nose. This was not an easy task for the spectacles as El had a rather large hook on her nose that one would think obstructed their mischief. They managed anyway.

Beginning this particular day as she did all her days, El awakened to collect her spectacles and quietly changed from her nightgown to a frock. She said a quick prayer, ending it with an appeal for rain. Kansas was experiencing an uncommonly long dry spell, and she was starting to run out of patience with the good Lord. If he didn’t answer soon, she decided she wasn’t above stripping to her knickers and doing a rain dance in the pigpen to see if that would get His attention.

A croak broke through the morning hush, interrupting El’s irreverent prayer, and she poked her head out the window to see a crow impudently riding the thermals. After hanging the nightgown in her closet, she pulled on her lace-up shoes and shuffled past the corral, pausing to rub Yule May’s muzzle, before heading to the well with an arthritic snap and a pop to draw water for cooking and cleaning. The crow hovered above—an inky kite harnessing the wind—only to veer left and disappear from view.

While lowering the bucket, she put her hand over her eyes and scanned the horizon. Something was amiss. Her stomach felt off center, leading her to wonder if a storm was brewing. To the right, everything was as expected. The horizon offered a straight line separating golden fields from an endless buttermilk sky, broken only by the outline of the single oak tree on a gentle rise that offered shade to Tom’s grave marker.

To the left, well… To the left, something was definitely amiss. Rising above the wheat in the distance sat a purple and gold mountain of a house. El sullenly shook her head at the illusion, unhooked the bucket from its tether and walked back to her cabin. The heat occasionally toyed with her eyes, but the air was cool and dry this spring morning. Just before stepping onto the porch, she set the bucket down, took a resigned breath, and turned around.

For the briefest of instants, something akin to wonder, or maybe hope, flowered inside her, but it was soon gone and she found herself glaring at the house, her lips pressed into a frown.

El was a practical woman. But she was equally a woman of determination. The appearance of the house was more than the affront of someone trespassing on her back forty, it was an insult to her understanding of how the universe worked. She gathered her skirt in her hands and marched through the wheat toward the offensive structure, only to pause at the gate in the picket fence to scowl at the profusion of roses growing on the other side. However much this bothersome addition to the landscape made her mind reel, she had to admit it had a certain charm.

Nonetheless!

El marched up to the house and stretched out her hand to knock on the door. Just as she did so, her stomach turned and the door began to spin. She closed her eyes to clear the vertigo, and opened them to find that she was back at the gate in the picket fence. Infuriated, she stomped back to the door, convinced that her attempt to knock had lacked conviction. She raised her arm to give the door a good wallop—.

And found herself plopped on her buttocks by the gate, legs sprawled, and with her skirt around her waist like some rag doll carelessly tossed in a bin. Just as the dirt started to chafe through her undergarments, a bird chirped close by. She looked up to find a finch perched atop a brass letterbox that sat on the picket fence, pretty as you please. She stared at it for a moment, before gathering herself up to head back to her cabin, where she immediately collected her inkpot and stationery, and began making her objections known in no uncertain terms.

17th of May, 1895

Greetings-

I am Elsbeth Grundy, a retired schoolmarm for Pawnee County, Kansas, and have lived in the same cabin for nigh on forty-six years now, with a good part of that stretch in solitude—a condition suitable to my temperament.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when I woke up to find that overbearing piece of conceit you might otherwise call a house sitting on my back forty.

Lacking the disposition for subtlety, I’ll get directly to the point. Trespass is dealt with at the business end of a shotgun in these parts!

And while it may appear to the contrary, I am not by nature the quarreling type, though that sissy of a representative from the county tax assessor’s office might beg to differ. Frankly, I think the reports of his limp are greatly exaggerated.

Sincerely,

Elsbeth Grundy view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. If you had Annie’s time portal, when and where would you go?

2. Who is your favorite character? Why?

3. Imagery adds depth to the written word in literature. There are several repeating images in The Lemoncholy Life Of Annie Aster, one of which is that of a crow. What do you think the crow might represent? Did you notice any other significant images? What might they mean?

4. Roses, particularly, have been a bonanza for symbologists throughout history. What do roses represent to you? What do you think the roses in the garden that appears behind Annie’s house represent?

5. Déjà vu is defined as the illusion of having previously experienced something. Christian fears that he may have met Edmond before, but doesn’t remember. In the end, did he experience déjà vu, or was it more complicated than that?

6. As a society, we are undeniably judgmental about drug abuse. Did your impression of Edmond change when you became aware that he struggled with drug addiction? Why or why not? Do you think drug addiction is a disease or a choice?

7. Cap’n was shocked by how the world treated her when she lost her family and home. Fabian said that homelessness and poverty, made her invisible to the world, because otherwise people would have to ‘face their own pettiness.’ Do you think that is a fair comment?

8. “I’m not proud of what I done, but pride ain’t really something I can afford.” Cap’n says that after admitting to Annie that she steals, and her point is clear. While she is mindful that theft is wrong, she’s not going to suffer too many scruples over it when her survival is at stake. And that begs a moralistic question. What is the measure of this sin (stealing) when it is held up against survival? Whose sin in greater: Cap’n’s for stealing, or society’s for creating the circumstances that forced her to steal?

9. The Lemoncholy Life Of Annie Aster is, at its heart, a novel about five misfits—Annie, Elsbeth, Cap’n, Christina, Edmond—that explores the concept of marginalization through their experience. What do you think were the qualities or circumstances that led to each of the protagonists’ marginalization?

10. Edmond says, “It’s not sin, what’s inside you. I promise you, it’s not.” His comment addresses one of today’s hot-button topics—homosexuality as a sin. Is it?

11. Do you think that homosexuality is a choice? Does the fact that LGBT youth are four times as likely to attempt suicide as their heterosexual counterparts (eight times as likely if they’ve experienced rejection from their family) affect your determination as to whether or not homosexuality is a choice?

12. Does our concept of what constitutes sin evolve over time as we gain a better understanding of the forces behind it? (Example: slavery.)

13. In the novel, the author toys with the concept of fate as a physical force of the universe, not unlike gravity. Just to make things more complicated (he loves complications), he stirred in two other powerful forces—love and time—binding the three together. Which of these three forces—love, time, or fate—played the greatest role in uniting Annie and El? Which of these forces played the greatest role in uniting our other protagonists?

14. Danyer is a figment of Mr. Culler’s imagination that allows him to do evil without feeling the weight of guilt or the need to take personal responsibility for his actions. Basically, Mr. Culler blames Danyer for his own bad behavior. What are some common scenarios in which people blame others in order to deny personal responsibility today?

15. Courage and sacrifice often go hand in hand. Annie begs Christian to find his courage and be true to himself, and he does, but he has to sacrifice everything he was taught to do so. What other acts of courage did you find in the book, and what sacrifices did they require?

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