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A Tear of Love
Jacob Seely Jacobson stares out the window at his beautiful daughter, Casey, limping painfully to her car. The car accident that had killed—and was caused by—her abusive husband had severely injured Casey’s right leg. Because she had been driving, a possible indictment for negligent homicide hangs over her head. And Jacob, a widower at forty-nine, is wrestling with his own demons. Though weak, Casey wants to help her friend Tiffany, whose husband, Russ Eden, sounds as abusive as Nick had been. Casey’s wildly improbable, almost comedic plan to “disable Russ Eden emotionally” worries Casey’s father. Determined to enjoy life, Casey returns to her profession of photography and is soon caught up in an enigmatic relationship with Syrus Tucker, the new graphics director for a large advertising agency. Like flint and steel, the relationship produces sparks that seem to be moving Casey ever closer to an unknown danger. In A Tear of Love, you will find mystery, suspense, spousal betrayal, and unexpected love. Popular author Alene Roberts has created memorable characters—people you will come to deeply care for and from whom you will learn valuable lessons about life.
- GenresFictionLds Fiction
358 pages, Paperback
Published August 8, 2005
2 people are currently reading
18 people want to read
About the author
Alene Roberts
12 books10 followersI can swing higher than the chicken coop. The fun of picking and chewing pine gum. Or every kid ought to have a cow like Blossom. I wish I could tell you all about these and dozens of other stories about my life, but I’ll try to pick out the highlights.
I was born in a small community in the Four Corners country of the American southwest. My father was a sheepman, cattleman, rancher, and owner of a real western mercantile store that supplied goods to the inhabitants of a wide area including members of the Pauite and Navaho Indian tribes. Whatever anyone needed they could find it at the mercantile, or Dad would get it for them. Groceries, clothing, and western gear and supplies were staples, but they could also obtain cloth, toys, coffins, stove pipe, draw off their own vinegar from the large wooden vinegar barrel, or even order a new automobile. Before I was born men could even get a free haircut.
As a child, I explored the wonders of that marvelous store almost everyday. The candy counter was my favorite. But when I began reading I liked it better than eating candy.
I had an idyllic childhood. The outdoors was as familiar to me as the inside of the dwelling that was home to me, my parents, three brothers, and a sister. In the summer I rode my horse, Toby, with my friend Patsy, up the Blue Mountain that towered next to our community. Sometimes we hiked to the lower levels and waded in the streams, or hiked to the “big hill” north of town that was covered with scrub oak and sagebrush. The smell of sagebrush was delicious to me.
Our orchard was my haven. I climbed the fruit trees daily, watching and waiting for the fruit to ripen. It seemed to take an eternity. My favorite place was sitting behind the gooseberry patch eating the green sour gooseberries. My brother, Mason and I had contests to see which one of us could chew a mouthful of these without pulling a face..
When I was ten my life took a drastic turn. I contracted polio and spent a year on my back in a hospital three hundred miles away from my home and family. It was in the isolation and homesickness of the hospital ward that I discovered the need and joy of writing, putting my thoughts in letters to my family, friends, relatives, and even my beloved dentist.
The medical prognosis was that I would never walk without braces or crutches. With the faith that often comes to children and through my prayers and the prayers of my family I was able to leave the hospital, walking unaided, a living miracle. Though I could never run or jump because of atrophied limbs, I was determined to outdo my contemporaries in hiking, arm wrestling, handling a gun, and riding a horse. I began helping my father herd cattle from the winter range to the summer range in Colorado, reversing the process as winter approached.
For quite some time I was forced to wear high-topped shoes to strengthen my weakened ankles. I went to a school dance in junior high wearing these awful shoes.. Guess who was the “wallflower” of the evening. I walked home that night crying.
Later on, in order to gain more strength. I had to undergo muscle transplants on my right foot, and on my left hand.
I adored my father. He was like the morning sun to me. Even as a small child I would sneak into the living room, hide behind a chair, and listen to him talk to or give advice to people from every station of life. I’m sure those conversations helped spark an interest in the way that people speak to each other, and the differences between men and women.
My mother was quiet, gentle, and loving.. She was totally selfless in her service to her husband, family, and others of the community. She taught us spiritual values and lived what she taught.
It was when I went to college that I felt a new sense of of my own ability. I always wanted to write. Though I began with a truncated love story at age twelve, I never really thought I could until my advanced creative writing professor called me i
I was born in a small community in the Four Corners country of the American southwest. My father was a sheepman, cattleman, rancher, and owner of a real western mercantile store that supplied goods to the inhabitants of a wide area including members of the Pauite and Navaho Indian tribes. Whatever anyone needed they could find it at the mercantile, or Dad would get it for them. Groceries, clothing, and western gear and supplies were staples, but they could also obtain cloth, toys, coffins, stove pipe, draw off their own vinegar from the large wooden vinegar barrel, or even order a new automobile. Before I was born men could even get a free haircut.
As a child, I explored the wonders of that marvelous store almost everyday. The candy counter was my favorite. But when I began reading I liked it better than eating candy.
I had an idyllic childhood. The outdoors was as familiar to me as the inside of the dwelling that was home to me, my parents, three brothers, and a sister. In the summer I rode my horse, Toby, with my friend Patsy, up the Blue Mountain that towered next to our community. Sometimes we hiked to the lower levels and waded in the streams, or hiked to the “big hill” north of town that was covered with scrub oak and sagebrush. The smell of sagebrush was delicious to me.
Our orchard was my haven. I climbed the fruit trees daily, watching and waiting for the fruit to ripen. It seemed to take an eternity. My favorite place was sitting behind the gooseberry patch eating the green sour gooseberries. My brother, Mason and I had contests to see which one of us could chew a mouthful of these without pulling a face..
When I was ten my life took a drastic turn. I contracted polio and spent a year on my back in a hospital three hundred miles away from my home and family. It was in the isolation and homesickness of the hospital ward that I discovered the need and joy of writing, putting my thoughts in letters to my family, friends, relatives, and even my beloved dentist.
The medical prognosis was that I would never walk without braces or crutches. With the faith that often comes to children and through my prayers and the prayers of my family I was able to leave the hospital, walking unaided, a living miracle. Though I could never run or jump because of atrophied limbs, I was determined to outdo my contemporaries in hiking, arm wrestling, handling a gun, and riding a horse. I began helping my father herd cattle from the winter range to the summer range in Colorado, reversing the process as winter approached.
For quite some time I was forced to wear high-topped shoes to strengthen my weakened ankles. I went to a school dance in junior high wearing these awful shoes.. Guess who was the “wallflower” of the evening. I walked home that night crying.
Later on, in order to gain more strength. I had to undergo muscle transplants on my right foot, and on my left hand.
I adored my father. He was like the morning sun to me. Even as a small child I would sneak into the living room, hide behind a chair, and listen to him talk to or give advice to people from every station of life. I’m sure those conversations helped spark an interest in the way that people speak to each other, and the differences between men and women.
My mother was quiet, gentle, and loving.. She was totally selfless in her service to her husband, family, and others of the community. She taught us spiritual values and lived what she taught.
It was when I went to college that I felt a new sense of of my own ability. I always wanted to write. Though I began with a truncated love story at age twelve, I never really thought I could until my advanced creative writing professor called me i
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
August 19, 2020
Got about 50 pages in and couldn't keep reading. There were too many unrealistic scenes and I just couldn't do it. For example, the scene with Casey and her boss forcing her to lunch to spill her guts about her life was ridiculous. For one, the boss didn't need to know about it even though he said he did. For another, with the way Casey had been involved in an abusive relationship, she would have fought against her boss's coersion and force. I think what he did was against the law and it didn't seem realistic that Casey would just go along with it. One scene with Jake and Nan seemed cringy to me to.Wanted to like this, but couldn't. Sorry.
September 18, 2018
Besides being a great love story, it was very insightful about spousal abuse.
December 4, 2008
I thought this book was insightful into the lives of abusive relationships and how to learn to trust again, if you are in that type of relationship. I also loved that there was no swearing in the book or any sex. It was a wholesome book.
March 18, 2009
I enjoyed reading it, but I actually did predict the outcome from the get-go. I wasn't positive what would happen, but I was pretty sure. So that was a disapointment to me. Some parts were slow and on the boring side.
May 20, 2008
Wow, you won't be able to predict the outcomes in this book! Thanks Alene!
September 22, 2008
I have read 2 of the authors other books and I love the way she writes. This book was filled with mystery, suspense, abuse and love. She intertwines several peoples lives in an interesting way.
April 20, 2009
I only gave this book a three even though I liked it because it deals with some very tough issues.
January 5, 2010
This is the kind of book that give Christian fiction a bad name. It was choppy, and not very well written. Not an author I will read again.
October 16, 2010
I really liked the story line, but the writing wasn't very good.
May 18, 2011
I love all of Alene Roberts books. This one leaves me wanting a little more at the end, but the way the story unravels is surprising.
October 30, 2011
Good story.
December 3, 2015
This is the best book in the world! It is my favorite.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews