How in the hell do I go about describing this story and my reaction to it?
I'm going to have to resort to analogies. Bear with me, I'm still stunned stupid.
If Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird) had married right out of high school and out of a conviction that it would be her one shot, she would narrate the story of her rebirth in widowhood with as much wry grace as Lucy Hatch, the narrator and female lead in this wonderful, romantic novel. (And if you dislike first-person narrative romances, this is in a different class entirely.)
If memoirist Mary Karr (Liar's Poker) had tried to come to terms with a dead husband she shouldn't have married in the first place no matter how steady, honorable and earnest he'd been, she might possibly have sounded as guilty, truthful, skeptical, and very funny and confused as Lucy Hatch does, while picking up the pieces after her husband's untimely death on their East Texas farm.
That's just for starters. The author has a glorious command of language: lyrical descriptive passages capture the beauty of the spare landscape, the vicissitudes of weather and emotions, and the worn house Lucy Hatch makes home to begin to define her life as a widow at 33; each character contributes a distinct, often funny, voice that rings true to the story, to families, to small towns and to Texas; and she enables her narrator, Lucy, to acknowledge with delicacy and impact in turn the numbness of loss, the thrilling terror of attraction and its uncertainties, the ambivalence of dependence on another; and finally, Ms. Moyer did it all with such authenticity, it felt like a life being lived, all of it unfolding, as in life and as it must, inconveniently.
Then there's the guy who stares at her from his beat-up, white pick-up truck soon after she returns to her hometown. Ash Farrell. He works with his hands. He's drop-your-panties gorgeous and a survivor of less-than-auspicious beginnings himself. And he can sing, damn it. His single-minded pursuit of Lucy and infinite patience would have irked me as annoyingly unrealistic, if not for all the realities of Lucy's situation that weighed on me for her sake. He waited because she was worth the waiting. He persisted because she'd lost her footing in life, and he knows a bit about this himself. And he loved her before he made love to her, knowing she wasn't certain she deserved to find joy in the arms of another man so soon. But he was willing to ride through the storms to find out what she's decided.
One final analogy, sorry. Lucy says the smell of Ash Farrell's neck was instantly familiar, unforgettable and somehow perfectly right. So was this story.
I loved it and I hope you find a copy to read for yourself.