Set in rural Vermont in the volatile 1960s , Agony Hill is the first novel in a historical series full of vivid New England atmosphere and the deeply drawn characters that are Vermonter Sarah Stewart Taylor ’ s trademark . The first in a series , Agony Hill , does a beautiful job of capturing the dynamic tension of a state going through dramatic change . The interstates are coming through , new people are moving in , the first Democrat Governor since the Civil War is hitting his stride alongside the federal policies that are changing the power dynamics , and anger over the war is starting to spill over into the rural communities of Vermont . Sit back , relax , and enjoy this exciting excerpt from Taylor ’ s brand new novel !
Prologue
The day was hot and clear , the sky overhead a thick blue traced here and there with ragged wisps of stringy clouds that reminded Sylvie of the bloody scratches she got when pruning brambles . They ’ d cut the hay two days ago , raked it , and nervously watched the skies all day yesterday ; it had threatened rain but never delivered , and when the morning dawned bright and dry , Hugh and the boys ate quickly and went out into the fields to bale . Sylvie made sandwiches for lunch — ham from last year ’ s pig , and fresh butter — and took them out to the fields , Daniel , who was two , trailing behind , crying about the feel of the stalks on his bare legs . She couldn ’ t lift him because she was carrying the lunch basket .
“ Beer ?” Hugh asked when she dropped the basket on the ground in the shade on the other side of the baler . He liked a beer in the field , once the day was more than half over , but there ’ d been no extra money the last time they went to the market .
“ Wasn ’ t one ,” she said , trying to skate over it so he wouldn ’ t dwell . She laid the sandwiches out and called the older boys over . Scott was sweaty and sunburned . Now that he was fourteen and past a growth spurt that had swelled his biceps and stretched him to nearly six feet , he could throw bales as well as a man . Andy , twelve , was driving the truck and he pulled it up when he saw her and came over gladly , smiling , touching her skirt , his heavily lashed eyes darting up to hers . He didn ’ t like the work , maybe never would , but he tried not to let Hugh see it . Louis came up next to her . At six , he was old enough to be pressed into service , young enough that he didn ’ t like being away from her for the day . She gave him a little squeeze and told him to eat . “ I was thinking ,” she said , when they ’ d finished and the basket was empty , “ that we could go down to the swimming hole later . Cool off .” “ Can we , Maman , can we ?” Louis asked . The older boys had started calling her Ma or even Sylvie , but Louis still used the name she ’ d used for her own mother when she was growing up with French Canadian parents on the Quebec border . Louis loved swimming , loved water , and he splashed in it like a seal .
VTMAG . COM FALL 2024 53