Trueluck Summer: Southern Historical Fiction
Susan Gabriel
language
(Wild Lily Arts, Oct. 10, 2016)
A hopeful grandmother. A sassy young girl. Their audacious summer stunt could change their southern town forever. Charleston, 1964. Ida Trueluck is still adjusting to life on her own. Moving into her son's house creates a few family conflicts, but the widow's saving grace is her whip-smart granddaughter Trudy. Ida makes it her top priority to give the girl a summer she'll never forget. When a runaway truck nearly takes her life, Trudy makes fast friends with the boy who saves her. But since Paris is black, the racism they encounter inspires Trudy's surprising summer mission: to take down the Confederate flag from the South Carolina Statehouse. And she knows she can't do it without the help of her beloved grandmother. With all of Southern society conspiring against them, can Trudy, Ida, and their friends pull off the impossible?Trueluck Summer is a Southern historical women's fiction novel set in a time of great cultural change. If you like courageous characters, heartwarming humor, and inspirational acts, then you'll love Susan Gabriel's captivating tale.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.At the corner of King Street, I wait for the traffic light to change, tapping my foot on the sidewalk. The pie is heavy and my fingers ache from the twine. Callie’s Diner is less than a block away. A dark cloud covers the sun and momentarily softens the heat. For about the hundredth time that day I wish for a summer adventure.In the next second, a Sunbeam Bread truck barrels down Broad Street from the opposite direction. Something about it seems off. The truck weaves into the other lane, and a car veers out of the way. The driver of the car sits on his horn. A moment later the truck comes straight for me. I freeze, my legs refusing to move as danger prickles up my spine. Brakes squeal, and I hold my breath. An instant before I am smashed flatter than one of Nana Trueluck’s pralines that she always makes at Christmas, a brown hand jerks me out of the way and the truck crashes into a streetlamp right where I was standing. The engine sizzles, and a cloud of steam rises from the hood. “Are you okay?” the boy asks. In that moment, I realize I have never seen a colored boy up close. He is about my age, though shorter and skinnier, and is much stronger than he appears, given he just pulled me out of the path of a runaway truck.“You saved my life,” I say. He blinks like he is as surprised as I am.“My name is Trudy Trueluck.” I extend my hand.He hesitates, like maybe he has never touched a white girl before. But then he shakes my hand. “Paris Moses,” he says. “No relation.” “No relation?” I ask. “No relation to the guy in the Bible,” he says.“Oh,” I say. The lemon meringue pie I was to deliver to Callie’s Diner is a gooey mess on the sidewalk.“That could have been me,” I say to Paris, “except there would be blood and guts instead of yellow filling.”He offers a quick grimace followed by a smile. At that moment I know that Paris Moses and I will become friends.