Did I Expect Angels?

By Kathryn Maughan

Jennifer Huffaker knows that grief is normal, but she thought she'd get over it -- that's what people do. But it's been eighteen months since her husband Jack died, and she still can't focus on her young daughter Kaitlin, can't accept support from her family, and can't allow herself to live without the love of her life. Jennifer is angry at everything and everyone -- including herself for being so unprepared. But what did she expect? Angels?

On the day after Christmas her anguish finally becomes too much, and Jennifer's pain culminates in a shattering decision. But this is also the night she runs into Henry, an elderly friend from Costa Rica who has seen more of life's trials than anyone could know. Henry realizes the devastating depths to which Jennifer has sunk, and he decides that tonight is the night to tell her his story.

Touching and incisive, poignant, and sometimes bitingly funny, both Jennifer's and Henry's stories intermingle into a tale of love, despair, faith and, ultimately, hope, as Jennifer realizes she has been blessed with the most unexpected angel of all....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathryn Maughan
• Release date: Jun 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476449593

Book preview

DID I EXPECT ANGELS?

by

Kathryn Maughan

Smashwords Edition

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Published on Smashwords by:

Kathryn Maughan

Did I Expect Angels?

Copyright 2012 by Kathryn Maughan

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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Contents

Prologue

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Epilogue

The Community

Acknowledgments

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Prologue

My hands are shaking again. Actually, not again; they never stopped. I try to steady them as I look at the labels in the gray-white glare of the overhead lights, which are so bright they bounce off the scuffed tile, humming so loudly I can hear them through the tinny Silent Night playing overhead. The full bottles comfort me, their rattle and their bulk and their assurance that it can still happen tonight. It has to happen tonight.

"Please, Mommy. Her begging echoes in my ears. Please let me stay here tonight."

I shake my head hard—so hard it hurts—shake the echo away. Kaitlin is with Grandma, probably sound asleep by now. Dreaming of stuffed animals and Snow White and maybe a tricycle, a day I didn’t give her.

"Mommy, I don’t want to go!"

Stop thinking. Just keep going. Just a little longer.

Two bottles of aspirin. Is aspirin going to do it? Two full bottles? What will happen, will I just stop breathing and ease off into nothing, "soft as the whisper of a Summer sea"? Or will it be painful—awful stomach cramps or shuddering or convulsions? Or worse, what if it doesn’t work?

"I’m sorry. I never meant this to happen," I said, now three hours ago. That was true on so many levels.

I sense some movement to my left and snap around. A man walks away. He has light brown hair, he’s about five inches taller than I am, and he is downright skinny. I catch my breath. He wears a green sweater—green to bring out his eyes? If I could see his face, would I call him nondescript?

He heads out of the pharmacy section, and his walk is just a little too familiar. My breath quickens despite myself, and I am pulled forward, creeping after him. He goes into the house and garden area and begins examining a gray garden hose, angling his back so I still can’t see his face. I strain for a glimpse, hiding behind the fencing material. I don’t want to frighten this apparition. He squeezes the hose, testing it. He’s not expecting anyone to come to him; I can tell by the way he stares steadily down. He pauses for a moment and then advances on to sprinkler heads. He grabs one and wiggles its parts. I laugh.

He picks up a second sprinkler (is he from out of town? It’s the dead of winter) and begins walking that strangely familiar walk to the cash registers. I keep a distance but follow him as quickly as I dare. I will not let this man out of my sight. Not the light brown hair, not the square shoulders, not the green sweater. I have to look at his face.

He steps on line behind a woman with three floral skirts and a giant jug of Tide. I huddle at the barrel of candy canes, which are already marked down by half, already three-quarters gone. What would happen if I walked up to him? Just said something out loud?

I feel a hand close solidly on my elbow. I gasp and turn around. Henry.

Jennifer. What are you doing?

Henry is the greeter here, a Costa Rican immigrant whose strong Spanish accent is untouched by forty years of speaking English. He hugs me every time I come in, and we discuss banalities in Spanish: the weather, the sales, our health, or Kaitlin if she’s with me. We have never discussed my husband, but he senses something. He must, or he wouldn’t try so hard.

When I came in ten minutes ago, I smiled my answer to Henry’s greeting and neatly stepped aside to avoid his hug. He reached out and caught my elbow. ¿Cómo está, Jennifer? he said. He looked at me so hard I shivered.

Bien, bien, I said, turning away to dismiss him. Tengo prisa. Discúlpeme. And it was true. I was in a big hurry. I felt him watch me until I got past the clothes.

Now his hand is on my elbow. You scared me, I say absently, craning my head back around to look toward the cash registers. The light-brown-headed man is still on line, still has his back to me. You would think he was doing it on purpose. I just want to see his face …

Jennifer, please. Por favor.

Something about Henry’s tone causes me to turn back to him. He’s exactly my height so I stare into his black eyes for a moment, so dark you can’t distinguish pupils from the iris, shrouded by heavy folds of dark skin and black lashes. The whites have smeared with age, but that doesn’t soften the look he gives me.

I try to pull away and turn back to look at Jack—the man. He is gone. The woman ahead of him sends her skirts through, and the checker pauses to look at a tag. The man is gone.

I want that you come with me, Henry says, still holding my arm.

I need to talk to someone. I pull again, but Henry grips tighter.

I need to talk to you, he says.

Henry, I really can’t do this right now.

Jennifer. Please let me help you.

I’m blank until I remember my aspirin. I hold up the bottles. I have to buy these.

You have a headache?

Yes. Yes, I do. I get a lot of headaches.

Henry takes them out of my hands and sets them on top of the candy rack, on the blue Trident gum. You do not need these tonight, Jennifer.

Henry, I …

You do not need these tonight. Please come with me. Por favor. Henry places a firm hand on my shoulder and guides me through the empty cashier row. I continue craning my head back, to look for my nondescript man, but he is nowhere to be seen.

We face each other on the sidewalk, shivering, our breath creating little puffs in the air. I’m almost nervous. What has happened to gentle Henry who hugs me, teaches my daughter happy little Spanish phrases? I don’t want to go with him, but I’m too tired to refuse. He’ll say his piece, and then I’ll go back into the warmth of The Discount Place and buy my aspirin. But I’m still nervous.

Henry reads my thoughts, or perhaps my face. You do not need to be nervous. My daughter will come to get us.

One last stab. Henry, I don’t know what you’re doing, but …

You will know soon.

A blue Honda pulls up, about two feet away from where we are standing. A giant snow bank prevents it from coming any closer. Henry turns to me. This is my daughter, Rosita. You will like her.

The driver’s door opens and a round little woman steps out. She looks about five years older than I, or maybe forty, and she has the same kind aura as Henry. She wears large dark-rimmed glasses and has short, straight, black hair.

Rosita, this is Jennifer, he says. I have decide for us to get un café.

Oh, great. Call me Rosa. I’ve heard a lot about you. Get in.

I check my watch. It’s only ten fifteen, but I’m still very tired and feeling a little fluish again. Henry is a good man; I know that much. He is always sweet to Kaitlin. He was so kind the day I met him, and I needed it. And it might be nice to be taken care of, just a little. Just for now.

The seat is warm from the heater, and I’m reminded of a winter night driving home with Jack, that night after his office Christmas party. He had just made the big announcement, so I spent the night happily answering questions (even the nosy ones—yes it was planned) and trying not to gag when someone walked by with a shrimp puff. I was exhausted on the ride home, and as I dozed, my face against the warm leather seat, he started humming with the radio. He never sang, never hummed (though he was determined to take up the piano), and I smiled. He must have looked over, because he said, I’m happy.

Rosa glances at me in the rearview mirror and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t know where we are going, and I don’t much care. Keep my focus elsewhere.

We pull up to a diner fifteen minutes later, one block from the dealership where we bought Jack’s car. Henry opens his door and lets in a blast of the cold. We need a little conversation, y un café will help it be more little and nice.

At the front door, Henry pauses. And there are not so many restaurants open now.

How you three doin’ tonight? a hostess beams at us, strangely happy given the time. She escorts us to a dimly-lit booth surrounded by red vinyl.

Very, very well, says Henry. That reassurance might be for me. He automatically asks for two coffees and then turns to me. You start with un café? he asks. I shake my head and shift on my seat. The bench has a long, wide crack that keeps catching my jeans.

Henry opens the menu and sets it flat on the table in front of him, and Rosa smiles at me, maybe expecting me to fill the silence. My foot starts tapping on the floor. When I realize what is happening, I shift contact to the ball of my foot and my knee begins bobbing up and down. The Discount Place is twenty-four hours, yes, but it takes time to get back there. My car could freeze up. I don’t want Rosa and Henry to have to drive me home; they might blame themselves. But why should they find out? They don’t even know my last name.

Henry looks up decisively. I will order for you chocolate caliente, he announces, and holds his hand up against my stuttered protest. Listen to me. I bring you here to tell you a story, he says. I bring Rosita so she can check my facts.

Rosa smiles more deeply, a dimple showing for the first time in her upper right cheek. He brought me so he wouldn’t have to drive in the snow, she corrects him.

I love the snow, but I never get use to driving a car, he sighs. But Jennifer. Figúrese—you figure we know each other for a long time, and I have never tell you my story. Now it is time for me to tell you my story.

Earlier today I had lunch with my sister Marie, so she could tell me a story of her own, about another man she shouldn’t be dating. I tried to listen and help; instead her voice turned into a soothing hum as I made a mental list of things I had to do. I categorized them, alphabetized them, and finally numbered them before practically abandoning her. At this point, I’ve done one through six, and now I’m twitching to get at number seven. Will it take long?

Rosa looks down, trying to suppress a smile. Not much time, Henry says. She laughs and puts her hand to her mouth to stop. He frowns at her.

Henry, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this tonight.

He just smiles at me. We will take you back if you want, but please. Will you only listen? Por favor.

I try to stay strong through the silence, but I break. I smile a smile of my own—though mine is pretend—and lean forward, hands folded on the table. All right.

"Jennifer, I want to tell you my story. I promise you will know why."

Everyone has a story. My sister. My mother has one, I learned; my mother-in-law as well. My husband. Friends, neighbors, relatives. An accumulation of experiences and joys and tragedies and life. I have one too.

* * * * *

Chapter One

We are from Costa Rica, como Usted ya sabe—you know that already. There is a little pueblo on the west coast that is call Puntarenas, our town. People think on the beach for Costa Rica, on the surf and relaxing and vacations. But Puntarenas is not a town for the tourists, or it was not when I live there. There is a big resort there now, but the rest of Puntarenas todavía is a part of the real Costa Rica. We have a beach, but it is dirty and dangerous. The sand is not bright and fine, and you can see a line in the water, a straight line like a drawing, where the sea turn from brown to blue.

Not all of Costa Rica is terribly hot. The centro of the country, up in the mountains, is fresquito and nice all the year long. But on the borders on every side, as in Puntarenas, it make a heat you cannot imagine, winter igual que summer. Even at five of the morning when apenas it get light, even then you will sweat. And in the winter, the more hot it is in the morning the more terrible will be the rain of the afternoon.

Puntarenas is not a rich town, and I come from the barrio the most poor there is, Juanito Mora. Even today there are no streets. Most of the houses in Costa Rica are of cement, but for the poor, houses are of wood. We did not have windows of glass, only a hole in the wall. We did not have water or light until our neighbor trap a wire from the new line of electricity. Our floor was of dirt, another symbol of the poverty; everyone else have floors of cement. Imagínese when it flood. We bathe only in a large sink behind another house, or a veces we go outside in the rain. We did not even have a radio, and everyone in Costa Rica have that. Until I have five years, I never have no toys—I play only with the toys of my friends, things they find in the garbage, like a doll with one leg. We cannot believe someone throw out something so precious.

It was Alfonso—the papi of my brother, Oscar—who change this. He teach me to carve wood. Suddenly I can have toys like any other chiquito, so I start to carve and I did not stop. I make cars, animals, people, houses. But most I make little chupacabras, the monsters of the campo. They are a legend for the children who like to be scare. We say they kill other animals and suck their blood.

I go to school until I have twelve years, because it is the law. (Gracias a Dios, because this mean I learn to read.) When I have twelve years, I start to work for a man in Barranca, one of the neighborhoods of the middle-class close to Juanito Mora. We go every day in his truck to collect garbage, furnitures, whatever. Also we collect the dogs that are wild and dirty and sick, and we kill them. There I work for six years, because I know I cannot get no better job. The nights at home, I carve my chupas—my chupacabras, my monsters—and I dream.

I used to listen when people talked to me. I used to listen to family, friends, sometimes strangers. I liked it. But I’m way too anxious for this, and I already listened, or didn’t, to a monologue today. I stand abruptly.

Henry—please, I don’t have much time. I, uh, I have some plans.

But it is late. What are your plans? When I don’t answer, he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Lo siento, Jennifer. It will not take long. Por favor."

My mind is blank. I can’t argue. I can’t speak. I can’t think. So I sit.

You will know why, he says again.

Alma grow up in one of the good neighborhoods, El Roble. It is much better than Juanito Mora. She have a real family, one father always. A house of cement, windows of glass, a ceiling under the roof of tin, water, light that was not trap from the house of another. It went straight to her house, and they pay for it, vieras. Look at that.

We meet for the first time in the féria, the outdoor market of the farmers, on a Saturday. I had decide to buy a piña for my family, a big treat for my mami. She love them, and almost never we eat them, so I feel proud as I stop at the table. But I did not see the frutas, le digo. I see Alma.

Vieras, Jennifer, right then my world change. Alma stand at the table, looking through the pile in front of her. The man hand her a piña, she smell it and put it back, and he hand her another one. The others at his table have to get their own. Alma have a basket over her arm with chayotes and some garlics and a bag of blackberry. I remember her red dress and sandals of wood, her hair that was black and long and so beautiful. She look so happy. There was a light that come from Alma that day.

I buy my piña right there so I can stand next to her. I ask her to go with me to a soda, a little restaurant. She smile at me but say no, her family wait for her and she need to finish her buying. I take her basket and say I will carry it for her. This was such a brazen thing, I cannot believe myself. She only nod her head and walk to the next table of onions, and then she choose maybe ten to put in the basket. I follow her to the cantaloupes, and she pick up three. Then two guanábanas—they are large and heavy also. Then she put in plátanos and oranges and then two papayas, very large. There was not no more space in the basket, which was good because I cannot carry no more. But she smile at me.

Vieras, she say. I need watermelons. I did not follow. I only look at the basket and worry. She put in one and the handle break in half.

I fall to the ground to pick up the fruit. What panic. She will consider me an idiot. Lo siento mucho, I say, but I look up and Alma is laughing so much she cannot stand straight. For just a moment I feel that she insult me, but she look so happy. It was a spell, le digo, and I fall in it.

After all the fruits were back, Alma smile up at me. And you are here still? she say. She only want to buy the piña, one watermelon, one cantaloupe, and the oranges and plátanos. I pick up the basket and carry it in both arms, not by the handle this time.

She agree to go to the soda with me, and there we talk so much. I tell her everything of my life, and nothing I say bother her. We talk during the rain and long after it stop, until we realize it will get dark soon and the family of Alma will ask where she is.

As we walk home my head fill with dreams of a marriage and many children and a house of cement. But when we arrive at her home, I see her papi. He was sat on the porch, listening to the music and waiting for her. The light come from their house enough that he can see me through the bars, the portones. He look like one of my papis, Ronaldo, the one who hit me the most. Alma present me to him, and he say, Huele de perros. It smell of dogs. Alma did not know why he say that—and then she realize and put her hand to her mouth. He open the door of the portones and tell her to come in.

I cannot stay back at my house. I set our piña on our cabinet and did not even tell Oscar, and walk back to El Roble and the house of Alma. I wait in the shadows, in the middle of the puddles, until I see her come outside to sweep the porch. I whisper to her, I can see you tomorrow? She walk

Reviews for Did I Expect Angels?

[bookish59 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Did I Expect Angels? hooks you from the start and doesn't let you go. All about love, loss, our choices in life, and finally recognizing and re-setting our priorities. The words are compelling and moving. Henry's life story is incredibly touching and because of his experience he was able to connect with Jennifer. This novel has surprised me. Outstanding.

[capriciousreader · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Maughan?s story of how hard it was to get her book published moved me so greatly, that when she asked if I would read, and review, her book, I didn?t hesitate to accept. To make a long story short, (you can read the long one here) Maughan had a very difficult time getting published, it took many, many years and a lot of courage, but in the end she and others believed enough in her to lead her to self-publish. You can read even more about her journey with ?Did I Expect Angels?? at her blog.This story of Jennifer, a young mother who was widowed at an early age, is a powerful one. After the tragic loss of her husband, Jennifer is lost. She?s left with their young daughter and her mounting problems have her contemplating suicide. Enter Henry, a kind-hearted man, who has become increasingly worried about his friend and decides to tell her his life story.Maughan does a great job of intertwining Henry?s story of love and loss with Jennifer?s. Through the eyes of both characters, the reader is forced to see the sometimes harsh realities that come with the loss of a love one, but also find the new directions that life can take after such tragedies. Henry and Jennifer are able to find understanding in each other?s experiences. Henry is able to lead Jennifer to a new hope for the future and inspires her to finally move beyond her husband?s death and Henry, through telling his story, finds more meaning within his own life.Maughan superbly paints a picture of the healing power of the personal relationship. In a day and age where people are increasing dependent on machines for their every need, it?s beautiful to read a story that shows how necessary we are to each other. This poignant story is heartbreaking and heartwarming. Maughan beautifully illustrates the healing power of human connection. Maughan has a talent for character develop and quickly endears both characters to the reader. This emotional story is both heart wrenching and heartwarming, and those looking for a good beach read would do well to pick up this novel.

[darcyo_12 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

In Kathryn Maughan's "DId I Expect Angels?" readers are shown how immensely grief can affect those left behind. Maughan intertwines the stories of Jennifer Huffaker, a young widow, and Henry, a greeter at a grocery store Jennifer frequents. Henry is an immigrant from Costa Rica who has lived in the U.S. for 40 years.Readers first meet Jennifer the day after Christmas as she is trying to buy enough aspirin to kill herself. Jennifer's husband, Jack, died in a car accident 18 months earlier. Her grief does not subside and affects not only herself, but also the lives of her young daughter and the rest of her family.Henry, seeing how much pain Jennifer is in, takes her from the store to a little restaurant to share his story of leaving Costa Rica and coming to the U.S. While Henry tells his story, Jennifer is reliving her past.Maughan's touching story will make readers laugh and cry. I'm tearing up now just remembering it! Henry reminded me of Ugly Betty's father. What an angel he turns out to be! Love, perseverance, hard work, faith and hope are all part of Henry's story. He passes his experience on to Jennifer at a time she really needs to hear it. I like to think he is passing it on to me, too. I highly recommend "Did I Expect Angels?" and hope to read more of Maughan's work.

[caapril · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Everyone deals with grief in their own way and in the novel "Did I Expect Angels?" Jennifer Huffaker is drowning in her grief for her husband. It's been eighteen months since his death and she still has a hard time getting out of bed and taking care of her young daughter, Kaitlin. On the day after Christmas she finally makes a drastic decision and heads to the local discount store to buy the supplies she needs. While at the check-out she is spotted by Henry, an elderly friend who works as a greeter, and he knows that now is the time to share his story with her. Jennifer reluctantly goes with Henry to a local diner and as he tells his story, she recalls her own and discovers that angels sometimes show up when you need them the most. This is a beautifully written story by author, Kathryn Maughan. She manages to tell two stories at the same time in a way that doesn't confuse the reader and keeps the story flowing in a natural progression. That being said, I don't think it was necessary to have Henry's entire story in Italics. I found it to be distracting and it slowed down my reading. I think most readers would be able to follow along just fine with his story in a normal font and it would certainly be easier on the eye sight. Despite this slight irritation I would highly recommend this book as it deals with grief in a realistic way from a relatable point of view. The stories of both characters are interesting and I think everyone can find something familiar in Jennifer and/or Henry and relate in at least some way to the emotion and pain these characters have gone through.

[onyx95_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

There was a plan in place for Jennifer Huffaker, after more than a year of trying to cope and move on, Jennifer had finally decided what she needed to do to give her daughter a better chance at a happy life. - Henry had lived his life, he’d been handed ups and downs, gone from poverty in Costa Rica to having a good life in New York. Now in his retirement, Henry has taken a job as a greeter at the local discount store. When he sees Jennifer come in late one night, looking more down than normal, he is determined to tell her about all the blessings he has had and still has in his life with the hope of helping her to realize that she too has her own blessing to count and that count on her.This style of story telling is very unique to me, having Henry tell Jennifer about his life, while she remembers her own, at first it was hard to get into, but after a while the flow is easier to follow. Henry’s life story seems unrelated to Jennifer in the beginning, but soon it does becomes clear why he is taking the time to tell her. As Jennifer remembers her life and her reasons for that nights errand, it builds her as a character that becomes easy to relate to. Everyone who has had a loss goes through some aspect of the grief that Jennifer feels. While her story was easy to relate to, Henry’s story was a more of a chronological accounting of his life and a lot of it seemed unnecessary. Henry’s story was also made a little more difficult to follow because of the use of Spanish words (I know a little, but not enough to allow this part of the story to flow easily). Nearly all the parts of the story pertaining to his time in Costa Rica, while interesting, seemed unrelated to the main plot of saving Jennifer from herself and it took a long time to get to it, then it was over quickly and I felt as if the ending was rushed. The concept that - everyone can be some ones Angel if you care enough to try - is a great one and this is a touching story to help portray that message.

[hockeygal4ever_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jennifer Huffaker has been mourning the loss of her husband for quite some time now. Friends & family are tiring of her constant state of depression & inability to raise her daughter "normally". Enough is enough.Jennifer notices herself that when her daughter is with others, she is full of laughter & smiles like a child should be. She starts to wonder if it's not best to end her own pain and leave Kaitlin with her grandparents, living a normal life again?Henry is the "greeter" at a local department store she visits often. While they've shared greetings & quick comments, often in his native language, they're far from close friends. But tonight he senses something different & insists that Jennifer join him & his daughter at the diner down the road, promising it will only take a little bit of her time.Henry shares his life story with Jennifer, explaining the harshness he has seen & showing that he too has felt "loss" above & beyond what one should be able to live with. Suddenly it all becomes clear to her, Henry had sensed what her mission was that night as she was checking out & he was sent to save her from her own desire to stop hurting herself & the ones she loves. He feels her pain, sees her struggle & knows her inner desire to just stop it all. They find too, that they are actually connected from Jennifer's childhood in an amazing way. This man has actually been a part of her life since she was a child & now he's here again, explaining that sometimes life is hard but you must move on. He is proof that it can be done.Will Henry make a difference or will she realize that her child is better off growing up with people who can bring back normalcy in her life again?Intense & intimately touching, this book won't let you down. The excellent, easy style of writing from author Kathryn Maughan makes the story flow along so quickly that you don't even realize you've read the book in literally a few short hours. Simply said, it makes one believe that perhaps we should "Expect Angels" when we need them most.

[jacketscoversread · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Back in March, Trish at Hey, Lady! Whatcha Readin’? posted a review, and a giveaway, about Did I Expect Angels? by Kathryn Maughan. The cover immediately interested me and when I didn’t win the giveaway, I asked for Did I Expect Angels? for my birthday.I cannot flaw the writing. I loved the flow, the dipping in and out of Jennifer’s story as she heard Henry’s. But the ending felt rushed. I didn’t want it to be tied up with a bow, and while the bow wasn’t there, it felt like Maughan was in a rush to finish. I also didn’t get sucked into the characters or the story like I expected.I can’t say Jennifer or Henry, or this story, will stick with me forever. In fact, I finished the novel Wednesday night and I’ve pretty much forgotten all of it. It’s a nice story that’s well-written but not anything really special.On a side night, I really admire how hard Maughan worked to get her novel published. You can read about it here.

[bbexlibris · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The power of a testimony, or one's life story, is sometimes all that will shake us from our own grief long enough to enable change. Did I Expect Angels? is a book that shows just how powerful it is to listen and to be heard, and to let those that love us know that we are not doing well, to cry out for help. Humans can be angels, it all depends on if they are the right person at the right time, and if they are willing to invest a little. We all have angels.In Did I Expect Angels? the grieving Jennifer meets an unexpected angel, Henry who tells her the story of his life. She never thinks to listen until her story becomes so much like his that her mind is finally able to focus on someone, on something besides her pain. Life does not make pretty, endings are not always good but if we try to pretend that we have gotten better, improved, or no longer need anti-depressants when we do, it is just a matter of time before our momentum will decrease and our life will fall apart with it. Jennifer was exactly in that spot when she met the greeter at a the local 24 hour store, an older man from Costa Rica. Jennifer thought the world would be a better place without her, that her daughter would do better in the loving arms of someone else rather than being surrounded by her own mood swings and depression.Did I Expect Angels? is a new take on 'It's a Wonderful Life', this is a novel that does not smoothe over, it does not dumb down pain. A captivating read, it shows the power of one life impacting another. Kathryn does a spectacular job in the writing. It is not mystical, surreal or strange at all, the angels are modern day heroes who mostly just happen to be the perfect person in the right place and time. I loved this book, the whole way through I was emotionally tied in to the book. I highly recommend it, really. It blew me away.