"Echo of Heartbreak, A Recipe for Life" is a short story written in the form of a letter from a very ill mother to her unborn daughter, telling her the incidents surrounding her birth, giving her advice on life, and leaving her the best of her family recipes.
Dear Gentle Readers,
The recipes in this book are mostly my mother's recipes. My mother was an old Italian lady who was a terrific cook and baker. (I did not get those genes.) Carmel prided herself on her fantastic meals.
However, she did not share her recipes. And if you persisted in asking her, she gave it to you wrong.
If I asked her for something specific, she'd say "I'll just make it for you. Pick it up tomorrow after work." So I got what I wanted, but never learned how to make it myself.
Fast forward to late in Carmel's life, very close to the end. While she was in the hospital, she agreed to give me her recipes, correctly this time, but I had to promise not to give them to anyone until she died.
Carmel passed March 23, 2006. Her recipes are interspersed throughout the story. I hope you enjoy them and try at least one recipe.
Hugs,
Carol
Amazon Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Echo-Heartbreak-Recipe-Carol-Kauffman-ebook/dp/B00ES2H0BS
Excerpt:
Good News and Bad News
“Well, Melina, the sonogram looks good. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes. Mornings are still a little rough, but I’m fine after ten o’clock. So, the baby’s okay?”
“Yes, she is. You, on the other hand…”
“Dr. Townsend, please, I appreciate your concern for me, I do, but I’m going to do this my way. As long as my sweet little baby girl is okay, that’s all that matters.”
“And who’s going to take care of your sweet little baby girl when you’re gone, Melina? Let’s abort this pregnancy now, before it’s too late. If you insist on carrying this child to full term, it will kill you.”
“You’re over-reacting to my cardiologist’s report. Dr. Lambert is an alarmist.”
“No, I’m not over-reacting. Pregnancy is very stressful on the heart.”
“Not as stressful as parenting, I’ve been told.”
“Let him fix this heart problem, get yourself healthy again, and you and Ethan can start all over again.”
“No. I want this baby.”
“This baby will kill you. You know, Melina, your husband, ‘the Professor’ can hardly take care of himself, let alone himself and a baby.”
“Oh, Doctor, he’s just a little pre-occupied and sometimes absent-minded. But Ethan’s not incapable. And he’s very loving.”
“Think about it, just think about it. You don’t have to make a decision today. We have time yet. I’m extremely worried about your condition, that’s all. There is every indication in this cardiology report that the stress from this pregnancy could be fatal.”
“Could be, not will be. And if the cardiology business ever dries up, Dr. Lambert could write bestsellers. He likes to scare people with heart problems.
“No. This is serious. Think about it, talk it over with Ethan, and call me in a day or two and we’ll schedule the procedure, okay?”
Melina nodded, but not in agreement, just simply to get out of there.
She got in the car and drove toward home. Think? That’s all she’d been doing is thinking. Talk to Ethan? Yuck, no! Ethan wouldn’t understand. Ethan could care less if they ever had a child. And, although he would never admit it to her, he’d much prefer a son to a daughter anytime to carry on the Rosemont all male tradition. She sometimes wondered how dear sweet Mother Maeve Rosemont lived with all that male testosterone. Ethan would side with Dr. Townsend. The last discussion with Ethan over the baby ended with “Do whatever you want.”
She pulled over and tapped a number on her cell phone.
“Hey, Glo, I need to talk. Can you give me a call when you have a sec? Just came out of Dr. Townsend’s office. And I’m feeling all bummed out. Love you. Bye.”
She pulled back onto the highway and drove to the local office supply store. She walked up and down the aisles. She stopped to look at journals. She picked up a big, beautiful, brown embossed leather-bound journal with gold-leaf edging. She ran her fingers over the embossed scrolls and flowers. It was a beautiful book.
Melina was a smart woman. She had much to share with her daughter, what to do, what not to do, pitfalls, plans for success, and recipes for disaster. Things she wished someone had told her when she was young. Personal things. Romantic things. Cultural things. The culture of a country is handed down from mother to daughter when it comes to the traditions and customs of a family. She wanted her daughter to have all the advantages of her vast experiences.
“Ethan? Ethan? I’m home. Are you home? Honey, where are you?” she called as she walked in the door.
She looked all over for him. “Ethan?” No Ethan. She pulled out the journal, sat down at her desk, and began to write.
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