Blog Tour: A Good Kind of Knowing by Kathy Lynn Harris ~ Excerpt

Welcome to my stop on the A Good Kind of Knowing blog tour, hosted by Samantha at CLP Blog Tours!

Let's start with a bit about the book:

Title: A Good Kind of Knowing
Author: Kathy Lynn Harris

Sera Taylor's store is the one place in Lakeville, Texas, where individuals from all walks of life share a universal love for music and a respect for the gypsy-like woman behind the antique glass counter. Readers get a taste of the unorthodox connection between Sera and Mack, a young local cowboy and musician, and Sera’s previously untested devotion to her husband Bill. They learn of her relationship with Ruby D., the vibrant but misguided mother of five; with Louie, the shy high school band director; with Beverly, the religious, upper-class socialite; with Antonio, a local bar owner striving to make a life for himself; with Tommy Lee, a rich and directionless gigolo; and with Wes, the only out-of-the closet gay man for miles. As Sera battles a serious illness, the characters must overcome long-held stereotypes to save Sera’s store, and in the end, large parts of themselves

Bill ran trotlines across the river in the late spring, summer and even into the fall each year. In recent years, Sera usually rode along with him to run the lines in the evenings, though she rarely did anything but sip from a glass of wine and turn her nose up as he raised the weighted lines and pulled them in. But she could handle the heavy wooden paddles—and the weathered 1960s plywood boat for that matter—and would help if he asked.

This year, of course, she hadn’t been out once. Bill had begun to wonder if running the lines was even worth it anymore. The weather had been cooler than usual; he hadn’t been catching much.

Sera had insisted Bill bring Leonard along, though he’d mumbled that was the last thing he needed. He’d bought the dog for Sera, after all, and he hadn’t the fortitude these days. The dog needed too much, or more than Bill had to give. But by the time he’d gone to the garage for something or another, and gotten back to the truck, the dog was waiting in the driver’s seat, drool hitting the steering wheel, and Sera looking on from the porch.

Now Leonard sat in the back of the boat, his long nose stuck down in the aluminum bait bucket watching the minnows Bill had bought at the last minute, when he thought he might throw a line in with his rod-and-reel. Bill watched the dog’s ears move forward and back, tilting this way and that. Bill doubted it was possible to view life like that anymore, as if something as straightforward as minnows swimming in circles could offer an answer.

Even nights like this—based on years’ worth of memorized motions—felt oddly unfamiliar now, like that feeling of driving someone else’s car for the first time. You hit the brakes too hard, turn on the brights when you meant to turn on the wipers. Nothing in the right place.

Bill eased the boat away from the creaking dock and out into the middle of the river current, heading upstream toward the yellow construction tape he’d tied to a weeping willow, the spot marking his trotline. The small outboard motor echoed down the riverbed, as the boat fought the current bit by bit and brown water splashed and spit over the bow, peppering Bill’s shirt. He pulled on a windbreaker he found stuffed under the seat.

He watched as a snapping turtle near the bank skimmed the water alone, one lonely neck steering just above the surface. It heaved itself onto a fallen tree trunk that stretched into the river. Lightning had split the tree; one part still stood on land, roots showing along the bank, and the other bobbed as water lapped at its sides. Bill wondered how something could be so damaged and yet able to live on.

He maneuvered the boat toward the bank, shut the motor down and tied off. He began pulling up the line, weighted with lead to reach the river’s bottom. He felt a few resentful tugs, and soon pulled up two channel cats, their wide mouths gaping and scooping the surface, their long, black whiskers moving about like arms.

He used pliers to remove the hooks from the fish when he had to, ignoring their squawking as he tossed them to the floor of the boat. Leonard barked as they jerked at his feet.

Bill breathed in, breathed out, felt the rocking of boat. He could feel Leonard watching him, then barking. Thoughts of Sera moved in and out of his mind.

As he attempted to pick up one of the big-headed cats and plop it in the large cooler full of ice, the fish flashed a sharp and angry fin into his palm. He dropped the fish. Blood ran down his arm and onto his jeans. He held his head in his hands, frustration and shame mixing with fish blood as well as his own, and leaving scarlet marks down his cheeks.

Then as quickly as he’d dropped the fish, Bill grabbed each by their rough mouths, one by one, and flung them over the side of the boat.

And then he headed home, knowing he wouldn’t be back.

Kathy Lynn Harris is the author of two novels: Blue Straggler, a former Amazon #1 bestseller in three categories, and the award-winning A Good Kind of Knowing. In addition, Kathy has written magazine and newspaper articles, an online column on mountain living, short fiction, essays and really bad poetry. Her work has also appeared in numerous published anthologies. In April 2013, Kathy will release her third children’s book, Higgenbloom and the Dancing Grandmas. Kathy grew up in a South Texas ranching family, but made the move from Texas to the Colorado Rockies in 2001 to focus on her writing and soak up All Things Mountain. Kathy’s blog, You Can Take the Girl Out of Texas, But …, can be found on her website, kathylynnharris.com. She lives west of Denver in a haunted (she’s sure of it!) 1920s cabin with her husband, son and two fairly untrainable golden retriever mixes.

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