From Library Journal
Dianne Robbins is a devoted single mother whose daughter, Julia, was born with spina bifida and Rett syndrome. Unfortunately Dianne's strength and devotion were not mirrored by her husband, Tim, who fled upon hearing the news of their daughter's condition. Fortunately, Tim's brother, Alan, is the local pediatrician. While Dianne struggles to care for Julia, Alan struggles to hide his growing feelings for his brother's former wife. Overwhelmed by the responsibilities of caring for her daughter, Dianne has no time for men, especially those who look like her ex-husband. Drawn together by Julia's worsening condition and their love for her, Dianne and Alan work to overcome their past. Rice (Cloud Nine) has once again created a tender story of a new family unit, where love and loyalty are more important than biology and where learning to trust again opens the door to happiness. Recommended for public libraries.
-Kathy Ingels Helmond, Indianapolis-Marion Cty. P.L.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
In a small town along the Connecticut coast, two brothers enter Dianne Robbins' life. Alan is a kind, handsome doctor, and Tim is a rugged, adventurous sailor. Dianne dates both but marries Tim. When she becomes pregnant, an early ultrasound indicates "genetic abnormalities" in the fetus, but Dianne decides to continue the pregnancy. Tim, however, feels incapable of accepting a child anything other than "perfect" and flees rather than face the potential pain and heartbreak of their daughter Julia's life. Dianne is left lonely, devastated, and overwhelmed. But Julia's needs, along with Alan's support as a friend and pediatrician, help Dianne begin to focus and gain control of her life again. Gradually, with the love of Alan, Julie, Dianne's mother, a kind and thoughtful retired librarian, and Amy, a troubled young girl who befriends their family, Dianne finally begins to feel joy. Rice's story of love and redemption will please fans of her tender and poignant style, as well as admirers of Jodi Picoult. Catherine Sias
From Kirkus Reviews
A sobfest about a mother, her brain-damaged child, and the two men shes loved. Rice's eighth novel confirms the worst fears of those who admired her earlier work, particularly Crazy in Love (1988) and the flawed but interesting Secrets of Paris (1991). Perhaps in an effort to gain wide readershipand maybe even a nod from the all-powerful Opraha solid domestic novelist has turned sentimental and trendy, constructing her story around topics a generous publicist might call ``ripped from today's headlines'' and a disappointed fan might deem way too topical and formulaic. Shortly before Dianne Robbins gave birth to a developmentally disabled daughter, her handsome, irresponsible fisherman husband, Tim McIntosh, leaves her. He couldn't deal with the fact that his child would be less than perfect. Twelve years later Dianne and Julia are in the same rural Connecticut town, dependent on Dianne's plainspoken librarian mother, Lucinda, and Tim's pediatrician brother, Alan, whom Dianne had dated once before marrying Tim. Although Alan is still in love with Dianne, instead of admitting this to hershe loves him too, by the wayhe stays close by ministering to Julia. Soon, however, the lovers admit their feelings and ba-boom, something bad happens: Dianne is in a freak accident, and by mistake the wrong McIntoshTimis called to the scene. Will the long-suffering Dianne, the ideal mother, the Good Person, succumb to her ex's charms? Will Alan the Saint forgive Tim for behavior that stems, Rice tells us, from his pain at watching another brother die in adolescence? In case all this isn't hokey enough, tune in to the misunderstood neighbor girl who baby-sits for Julia and provides Dianne with a glimpse of the daughter she might have had, and to last chapter, ``Julia's Story,'' in which the 12-year-old who cannot speak reveals her thoughts and feelings. Predictable plot, stock characters, and unnuanced emotion. The good news: At least there are no violins. -- Copyright ©1999, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
Review
Praise for the novels of Luanne Rice:
Cloud Nine:
"A tightly paced story that is hard to put down...Rice's message remains a powerful one: the strength of precious family ties can ultimately set things right."
--Publishers Weekly
"Elegant...Rice hooks the reader on the first page."
--The Hartford Courant
"One of those rare reading experiences that we always hope for when cracking the cover of a book...A joy."
--Library Journal
Home Fires:
"Exciting, emotional, terrific. What more could you want from a late-summer read?"
--The New York Times Book Review
"Compelling...poignant...riveting."
--The Hartford Advocate
Blue Moon:
"A rare combination of realism and romance."
--The New York Times Book Review
"Brilliant."
--Entertainment Weekly
"Eloquent...A moving and complete tale of the complicated phenomenon we call family."
--People
"A tightly paced story that is hard to put down.... [Rice's] message remains a powerful one: the strength of precious family ties can ultimately set things right." --Publishers Weekly
"One of those rare reading experiences that we always hope for--. What a joy!" --Library Journal -->
From the Inside Flap
velist Luanne Rice "touches the deepest, most tender corners of the heart" (Tami Hoag, author of A Thin Dark Line). Her stories remind us how precious and fragile life can be―and that we must risk our hearts every day to know happiness. Follow the Stars Home is just such a novel: a story of poignancy and heartbreak, grace and courage.
Being a good mother is never simple: each day brings new choices and challenges. For Dianne Robbins, being a devoted single mother has resulted in her greatest joy and her darkest hours. Weeks before her daughter was born, she and her husband, Tim McIntosh, received the news every parent fears. Tim had not reckoned on their child being anything less than perfect, and abruptly fled to a solitary existence on the sea, leaving Dianne with a newborn―almost alone.
It was Tim's brother, Alan, the town pediatrician, who stood by Dianne and her exceptional daughter. Throughout years of waiting, watching, a
From the Back Cover
Praise for the novels of Luanne Rice:
Cloud Nine:
"A tightly paced story that is hard to put down...Rice's message remains a powerful one: the strength of precious family ties can ultimately set things right."
--Publishers Weekly
"Elegant...Rice hooks the reader on the first page."
--The Hartford Courant
"One of those rare reading experiences that we always hope for when cracking the cover of a book...A joy."
--Library Journal
Home Fires:
"Exciting, emotional, terrific. What more could you want from a late-summer read?"
--The New York Times Book Review
"Compelling...poignant...riveting."
--The Hartford Advocate
Blue Moon:
"A rare combination of realism and romance."
--The New York Times Book Review
"Brilliant."
--Entertainment Weekly
"Eloquent...A moving and complete tale of the complicated phenomenon we call family."
--People
About the Author
Luanne Rice is the author of Cloud Nine, Secrets of Paris, Stone Heart, Angels All Over Town, Home Fires, Crazy in Love (made into a TNT Network feature movie), and Blue Moon, which has been made into a CBS television movie. Originally from Connecticut, she now lives in New York City with her husband.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Snow was falling in New York. The flakes were fine and steady, obscuring the upper stories of Midtown's black and silver buildings. Snow covered the avenues faster than city plows could clear it away. It capped stone monuments and the Plaza's dormant fountain. As night closed in, and lights were turned on in every window, the woman stood with the young girl, breathing in the cold air.
"The snow looks so magical in the city!" Amy, twelve, said in amazement.
"It's so beautiful," Dianne agreed.
"But where do the kids go sledding?"
"In Central Park, I think. Right over there," Dianne said, pointing at the trees coated in white, the yellow lights glowing through the snow.
Amy just stared. Everything about New York was new and wonderful, and Dianne loved seeing the city through her eyes. Fresh from the quiet marshlands of eastern Connecticut, they had checked into the Plaza hotel, visited Santa at Macy's, and gone ice skating at Rockefeller Center. That night they had tickets to see the New York City Ballet dance The Nutcracker.
Standing under the hotel awning, they took in Christmas lights, livery-clad doormen, and guests dressed for a gala evening. Three cabs stood at the curb, snow thick in their headlights. At least twenty people were lined up, scanning the street for additional cabs. Hesitating for just a moment, Dianne took Amy's hand and walked down the steps.
Overwhelmed with excitement, her own and for the child, she didn't want to risk missing the curtain by waiting in a long taxi line. Standing by the curb, she checked the map and weighed the idea of walking to Lincoln Center.
"Dianne, are we going to be late?" Amy asked.
"No, we're not," Dianne said, making up her mind. "I'll get us a cab."
Amy laughed, thrilled by the sight of her friend standing in the street, arm outstretched like a real New Yorker. Dianne wore a black velvet dress, a black cashmere cape, a string of pearls, and her grandmother-in-law's diamond and sapphire earrings: things she never wore at home at Gull Point. Her evening bag was ancient. Black satin, stiff with years spent on a closet shelf, it had come from a boutique in Essex, Connecticut.
"Oh, let me hail the cab," Amy said, dancing with delight, her arm flying up just like Dianne's. Her movement was sudden, and slipping on the snow, she grasped at Dianne's bag. The strap was very long; even with Dianne's arm raised, the bag swung just below her hip. Nearly losing her balance on the icy street, Dianne caught Amy and steadied them both.
They smiled, caught in a momentary embrace. Although Thanksgiving had just passed, Christmas lights glittered everywhere. Beneath its snowy veil, the city was enchanted. A Salvation Army band played "Silent Night." Bells jingled on passing horse-drawn carriages.
"I've never been anywhere like this," Amy said. Her enormous green eyes gazed into Dianne's with the rapture of being twelve, on such a wonderful adventure.
"I'm so glad you came with me," Dianne said.
"I wish Julia were here," Amy said.
Bowled over with affection for the girl, and missing her own daughter, Dianne didn't see the cab at first.
Spinning on the ice, the taxi clipped the bumper of a black Mercedes limousine. A snowplow and a sand truck drove by in the opposite direction, and the Yellow Cab caromed off the plow's blade, crushing its front end, shattering the windshield. Dianne lunged for Amy.
The violent ballet happened in slow motion. Pirouetting once, twice, the cab spun on the icy street. Dianne grabbed the child. Her low black boot fought for traction. Glass tinkled on the pavement. Onlookers screamed. Arms around Amy, Dianne tried to run. In the seconds it took to register what was happening, that she wasn't going to get out of the way fast enough, she wrapped her body around the child and tried to shield her from the impact.
The taxi struck the crowd. People flew up in the air together, tumbled apart, and landed with separate thuds. Skidding across the pavement, skin scraping and bones breaking, they slumped in shapeless heaps. For one long moment the city was silent. Traffic stopped. No one moved. The snow was bright with red blood. Down the block, horns began to blare. A far-off siren sounded. People closed in to help.
"They're dead!" someone cried.
"So much blood . . ."
"Don't move anyone, you might injure them worse."
"That little girl, did she move? Is she alive?"
Five people lay crumpled like broken toys, surrounded by people not knowing what to do. Two off-duty New York cops out for the evening with their wives saw the commotion from their car and stopped to help. One of them ran to the wrecked taxi. Leaning through the shattered window, he yanked at the door handle before stopping himself.
The driver was killed, his neck sliced through by a sheet of door metal. Even in death, the man reeked of whiskey. Shaking his head, the cop went to the injured pedestrians.
"Driver's dead," he said, crouching beside his friend, working on the girl.
"What about her?" he asked, pulling open Amy's coat to check her heartbeat.
With the child their first priority, the two policemen had their backs to Dianne. She lay facedown in the snow. Blood spread from her blond hair, her arm twisted beneath her at an impossible angle. Moving quickly, a stranger bent down beside her. He leaned over her head, touching the side of her neck as if in search of a pulse. No one saw him palm the single diamond earring he could reach, or pull the pearls from her throat.
By the time he grabbed her bag, a woman in the crowd noticed. The thief had the strap in his hand, easing it out from under the fallen woman's arm.
"Hey," the observer yelled. "What the hell are you doing?"
The thief yanked harder. He held the bag, tearing at the clasp. It opened, contents spilling into the snow. A comb, ballet tickets, a crystal perfume flacon, some papers, and a small green wallet. Snatching the wallet, the man dashed across the street, disappearing into the dark park.
