{"id":793,"date":"2008-11-09T20:31:58","date_gmt":"2008-11-10T01:31:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=793"},"modified":"2008-11-09T20:31:58","modified_gmt":"2008-11-10T01:31:58","slug":"murder-on-the-ol-bunions-by-s-dionne-moore","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=793","title":{"rendered":"Murder On The Ol’ Bunions by S. Dionne Moore"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It is time to play a Wild Card<\/span>!<\/strong> <\/span>Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a>. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter!<\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
S. Dionne Moore <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Murder On The Ol’ Bunions<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Barbour Publishing, Inc (February 29, 2008)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

S. Dionne Moore is a bunion-free supermom, able to leap piles of homework and loads of laundry in a single bound. Not only does she write, homeschool her daughter, and help her pastor-husband, she also plays piano, loves to garden, and encourages other writers.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $ 4.97<\/p>\n

Mass Market Paperback: 256 pages<\/p>\n

Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc (February 29, 2008)<\/p>\n

Language: English<\/p>\n

ISBN-10: 159789639X<\/p>\n

ISBN-13: 978-1597896399<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Something about the Out of Time antique store didn\u2019t feel quite right that Tuesday afternoon. The rattle of that annoying bell Marion Peters insisted on hanging over the front door combined with the shock of cool air against my hot skin and managed to fry all my circuits and make me feel a little crazy. Kind of like the days when my kids each used to demand all my attention at once.<\/p>\n

\u201cMercy, Marion,\u201d I reached up to still the clattering noisemaker and called down the narrow building toward the soda fountain Marion used as a counter, at the back of the store. \u201cWhen you goin\u2019 to bless us all by removing this thing?\u201d<\/p>\n

No one answered. Strange, that. Silence is not one of Marion\u2019s virtues. Come to think of it, her Virtue list is pretty short, if you get my meaning. And no one enters Marion\u2019s store without her verbally pouncing on them with news of her latest purchase of quality merchandise or her daughter Valorie\u2019s most recent show of academic brilliance.<\/p>\n

My sweet husband, Hardy, set the bell to rattling all over again as he heaved his plaid pants a little higher and stepped inside the shop and out of the Colorado sunshine. He shot me a grin that sported his pride and joy\u2014his lone front tooth, covered in gold. But the sight of his weathered black face and grizzled gray-black hair has filled my heart with contentment for going on thirty-eight years. \u2019Course, I don\u2019t let him know that too often, or he\u2019d be thinking he\u2019s got me wrapped around his little finger.<\/p>\n

Hardy shut the door and gazed up at the spastic bell. He reached to silence the thing, fingertips three inches shy of meeting their goal. His cocoa eyes rolled in my direction, waiting. You see, Hardy\u2019s as short as I am tall.<\/p>\n

I reached up to squelch the bell and patted him on the head, not bothering to hide my smile. \u201cWhere\u2019d you disappear to? I looked all around the library for you, then gave up and came here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s grin didn\u2019t dim. \u201cWent to Payton\u2019s to talk music. He tried to sell me a book on playing the banjo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t play the banjo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup. Where\u2019s Marion?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow am I supposed to know? I just got here myself.\u201d Reaching around Hardy\u2019s slender form, I opened the door wide enough to set the bell to making noise and slammed it hard. We both cocked our ears toward the room for any sound to indicate Marion\u2019s arrival.<\/p>\n

Hardy guffawed. \u201cNever thought I\u2019d enter a place owned by Marion Peters and not hear her mouth flapping.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sailed past the old Broadwood concert grand piano that took up one side of the room and peered into one of the two boxes of books I\u2019d purchased earlier in the day. Marion had grudgingly agreed to let me leave the boxes until I could fetch Hardy to haul them for me. \u201cI suppose we can just take this box and go. Wonder where the other one is?\u201d Where was that woman? \u201cMarion!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLot o\u2019 wind in them lungs for an old woman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou better shut your trap, Hardy Barnhart. Years of yelling after you has given me my lung capacity. Marion!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s eyes twinkled. \u201cShe\u2019s giving you the silent treatment. I figure she\u2019s still mad at you for\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hush.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMarion can hold a powerful grudge.\u201d<\/p>\n

His words came to me through the filter of my own warring thoughts. Something wasn\u2019t right. I could feel it. Marion never left the store without flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. And forgetful she\u2019s not. Ask anyone who has ever done her wrong. I glanced back at the door. The sign definitely said OPEN.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou go ahead and load this box into the car, I\u2019m gonna look for the other one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy shuffled forward. \u201cYou paid for them?\u201d<\/p>\n

I sent him a healthy dose of the look I made legendary with my children. \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

He held his hands up, palms out. \u201cJust askin\u2019. If LaTisha Barnhart is thinking of starting a life of crime, I want to make sure I get cut in on the loot.\u201d<\/p>\n

This man. He makes me crazy. I glanced down the length of him and smirked. \u201cGot your drawers hitched too high again, don\u2019t you? I can always tell\u2014you start spouting crazy things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, like the day I said, \u2018I do.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what you said. You said, \u2018Yes, ma\u2019am.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n

I peeked into the box. The old books, covers frayed and worn, were neatly stacked, and definitely the ones I\u2019d purchased. I motioned to Hardy and he lifted the box to his shoulder. I turned and mentally itemized the merchandise in the store. Having worked at Out of Time until my youngest left for college last fall, I knew exactly where everything should be. A few dustless outlines proved recent sales had helped boost Marion\u2019s receipts, but other than that things looked normal. And why shouldn\u2019t they be?<\/p>\n

The store didn\u2019t hold much. A huge oak bookcase, a mahogany secretary, and a cherry dining room set, took up most of the twenty-one-foot length. Thanks to her going-out-of-business sale, Marion\u2019s overpriced stock now sported tags well within the price range of Maple Gap folk. The store\u2019s impending closing had surprised many of the citizens. Everyone figured Marion\u2019s elite clientele of wealthy collectors both here in tourist-laden Colorado and across the United States would keep Out of Time a thriving landmark for many years.<\/p>\n

So much for that thought.<\/p>\n

The scent of old books and dust hung heavy in the air. A draft of cold air raised shiver bumps on my arms. I stilled myself, turned, and studied everything again, forcing deep, calming breaths. Something was eluding me. Whatever stirred my senses to high alert seemed to be strongest at the counter. I returned there and sucked in another breath. And that\u2019s when I caught it. A certain strange scent. What was that odor?<\/p>\n

A mental image of my grown son at the age of eight bloomed. Tyrone had been helping Hardy build a shed and had sliced his finger a good one on the saw. Tyrone gave out a yelp. I went running. Hardy\u2019s dark chocolate face took on a milk chocolate patina at the sight of the blood, so I took charge. As Hardy hit the ground in a faint, I barked instructions to my children on how to care for their father and hustled Tyrone to the car.<\/p>\n

I directed our old Buick through town, one hand on the wheel, the other helping Tyrone maintain pressure on the wound. I tell you, blood seeped through that towel faster than I felt comfortable with, filling the air with its copper scent.<\/p>\n

That was it! I inhaled the air in Marion\u2019s shop, held my breath, and then released it slowly. My stomach clenched hard. Blood.<\/p>\n

All my senses flared, spitting warnings, making my head spin. With a hand on the counter, I steadied myself for what I knew needed to be done. As if pulled by an unseen string, I gravitated toward the only corner of the room I hadn\u2019t already examined. Some sixth sense screamed at me, telling me to hightail it out of there. But I ignored it, my feet leading the way, my brain screaming at my toes, telling them to cease all forward movement, turn tail, and run.<\/p>\n

I focused on the things scattered along the counter, a white envelope, an old-fashioned cash register, brochures of the store, a small bell for service. The now identified scent of blood saturated the air. My throat clenched. My feet must have finally got the message because they wouldn\u2019t move forward at all now, so I steeled myself and leaned forward over the counter.<\/p>\n

Marion.<\/p>\n

Her head lay in a pool of blood.<\/p>\n

Cold shivers tingled along my scalp. My heart skittered. I pressed both hands flat on the counter and squeezed my eyes shut to block the horrible image as shock carried me over the edge of rational thinking into one where every impulse had its way. I opened my mouth and gave vent.<\/p>\n

Hardy came on the run, his steps banging along the wooden floor as he skidded to a halt beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong? What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

My tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou getting ready to drop over or something?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tears glazed my eyes and turned Hardy into a fuzzy, carnival-mirror image. I raised my hand and shooed him away. \u201cGet back,\u201d I finally croaked. \u201cGo back outside. You don\u2019t need to see her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s eyes got wide. \u201cWhat you talking about, woman? See who? You ain\u2019t been sniffing glue again, have you?\u201d<\/p>\n

He sure knew how to get to me, but I wasn\u2019t having any of it. \u201cYou know I only did that once on a dare. Now you get.\u201d I waited for him to retreat, instead he stared. I flicked my hands at him, hoping he\u2019d trust me on this one. \u201cHardy. . .\u201d My glance at the place where Marion now rested gave everything away.<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s expression melted into a frown. \u201cWhat\u2019s back there?\u201d He took a step closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! You\u2019d better not stick your nose over that counter. I\u2019m warning you. You\u2019ll be sorry. Don\u2019t look.\u201d<\/p>\n

[SB]<\/p>\n

\u201cHardy\u2019s coming around, LaTisha,\u201d the young doctor of Maple Gap stood in the doorway of Out of Time, divested of its annoying bell at long last by the chief of police himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he\u2019ll be just fine.\u201d Dr. Troy Gordon motioned me to precede him back into the store. \u201cIt\u2019s not every day one sees a dead body.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stepped over to the end of the counter, careful to keep my eyes off the form flanked by the police chief and another man I\u2019d never seen before. I gazed down at Hardy\u2019s waxy complexion. He needed a thorough chiding, so, being the good wife that I am, I warmed to the event like a microwave on high. \u201cI told you not to look. You never do listen.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doctor knelt next to my man and patted Hardy\u2019s shoulder as he tried to sit up. \u201cYou\u2019d better lay back down, Mr. Barnhart. You\u2019ve had quite a shock.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNaw,\u201d he grated out. \u201cShe talks to me like that all the time. Ignoring her works best.\u201d<\/p>\n

My tongue poised to reply, but a wave of dizziness gripped me so hard I felt myself whirling. \u201cI\u2019m a-thinking I\u2019m going to lay me down, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Doctor Dr. Gordon\u2019s wide-eyed face tilted up at me, and he jumped to his feet. Just as my knees gave way, a hand jerked me backward and my body folded onto a chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cHead down, LaTisha.\u201d Doc\u2019s hand pushed my head between my knees, or as far forward as it could reach over my stomach. Diet is a four letter word, after all.<\/p>\n

Within seconds the dizziness began to release its grip. Something tickled down my belly. As my head cleared, I realized the sensation came from my pantyhose beginning a southern migration. Never could get a decent pair anymore.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n

Doc Gordon\u2019s voice penetrated my thoughts. I croaked a little hiccup and raised my head slowly. \u201cI\u2019ll be fine.\u201d But I wanted air. Real bad. I nodded toward the door. Doc must have understood my silent plea because he gripped my arm and helped me get up. With his hand directing me, I broke out of that shop and back into the spring sunshine. He helped me get settled into one of the two Windsor chairs he\u2019d dragged from Marion\u2019s shop.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bring Hardy out here, too. I daresay he\u2019s had enough excitement in that store.\u201d<\/p>\n

Within minutes, Doc Gordon returned with a wan, shuffling Hardy.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t look so good,\u201d I said as Hardy slumped down next to me and buried his face in his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither did she.\u201d<\/p>\n

I scootched my chair closer to him and squeezed his shoulders, drawing his head down to my chest. \u201cYou listen next time I tell you something. Thought you\u2019d done gone and had a heart attack.\u201d<\/p>\n

I spread my hand on his slender back and wondered how, after thirty-eight years of my cooking, the man had yet to put on more than five pounds. He was too skinny. Of course, he always told me I\u2019d gained enough for both of us.<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s voice came out muffled. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t leave you to have all the fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doctor reappeared. \u201cOfficer Simpson wants to talk to you, LaTisha. I told him you weren\u2019t feeling well and to wait awhile. He\u2019s pretty anxious to ask you some questions. Do you feel up to it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I twisted around in the chair and saw the young police officer standing in the doorway. I nodded at him, anxious to have the whole incident behind me. \u201cCome on over here and get to your asking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Doc gave Hardy a pat on the shoulder. \u201cI\u2019ll be inside if you need me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy straightened in his chair as the officer approached. I gave his complexion a good once-over before frowning at the policeman and jabbing a finger toward Hardy. \u201cYou can ask me what you need to until he\u2019s feeling perky.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just have a few questions, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou new to town?\u201d<\/p>\n

The young officer swelled up a bit. \u201cYes, Mrs. Barnhart. I moved into town last week.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave the newcomer a good scrub down with my eyes and wondered why I hadn\u2019t heard of his arrival. No way was I anxious to have to go through the whole trauma of explaining how I found Marion\u2019s body with this young fellow.<\/p>\n

\u201cJob doesn\u2019t pay well,\u201d I started out, making good and sure he knew I had the upper hand. \u201cWe just lost two men a month ago because the city council didn\u2019t approve raises. One of them moved his family to Seattle, the other became an insurance salesman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, yes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m LaTisha Barnhart. And you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Officer Mac Simpson.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a bad looking boy. How old are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThirty-two.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTisha.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy\u2019s voice held an edge that I recognized right away. I rolled my eyes his way. \u201cI\u2019m just trying to be neighborly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet the boy do his job.\u201d<\/p>\n

I huffed back into my chair and crossed my arms, considering. Doesn\u2019t hurt to give the new guy a few warnings about small town living. Who knew? A murder right after a new person arrives in town. . . Suspicious if you ask me.<\/p>\n

With Hardy getting uptight with me, I\u2019d have to summarize my welcome speech. \u201cYou must have bought the Hartford\u2019s place. Only house for sale that I know of. I\u2019ll bring you some of my fried chicken. Don\u2019t want newcomers to feel unwelcome here. I consider it my duty to make sure new people have at least one good square meal. Moving is hard work, and organizing a kitchen takes a woman\u2019s touch. You got yourself a woman? Preferably a missus.\u201d My eyes slid to his left hand. No ring. \u201cWe can take care of that for you, too, just give us a chance.\u201d<\/p>\n

Satisfied that I\u2019d had my say, I waited for the man to begin with the questions. He blinked like a barn owl in the sunlight for a full thirty seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cHurry up and ask what you need to ask. I haven\u2019t got all day.\u201d<\/p>\n

His Adam\u2019s apple bobbed, and he cleared his throat. \u201cI\u2014\u201d He glanced at the small notebook in his hand as if it contained the script he should follow. I knew the pages were blank. Noticed it right off. Not much escapes me. Ask any one of my seven children. They\u2019ll tell you their momma not only has eyes in the back of her head, but she\u2019s got \u2019em on the sides, too, and the high beams are always on.<\/p>\n

Being that I had more education about these police things than he probably did, I decided to help him out. \u201cYou want to know what I was doing in the store and how I found Marion.\u201d<\/p>\n

His lips cracked a small smile. \u201cThat would be a good start. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe chief asked me all this already.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am. He wanted me to ask again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now if there\u2019s one thing I don\u2019t like to have to do is repeat myself. I tell you once. That\u2019s it. You ask for a repeat and you might get it\u2014slowly and with every vowel enunciated\u2014but you ask again, and I\u2019ll call the ear doctor and set up a fitting for you to get yourself a hearing aid.<\/p>\n

I leaned forward, deciding I\u2019d give this boy a second chance. This time. Since he was new and all. \u201cI went into the store to pick up some things I bought earlier. Hardy came in after me. Something seemed funny when Marion didn\u2019t start talking right off. That\u2019s Marion for you. She never had any need for quiet. Anyways, I went around the counter and there she was.\u201d I had to push hard at the sight of her that flashed in my brain. Forcing back my emotions, I went on. \u201cPayton heard me\u2014that\u2019s the owner of the music store next door, don\u2019t suppose you\u2019ve met him yet\u2014and he came over right after Hardy fainted. He\u2019s the one who called you boys. That\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Officer Simpson scribbled in his book. \u201cDid you see anything suspicious? Hear anything out of the ordinary?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI smelled blood.\u201d And still did. I swallowed hard. \u201cTook me awhile to figure out what that smell was, but I did. That\u2019s when I thought to look behind the counter.\u201d<\/p>\n

Voices carried over from the doorway of the shop. The chief of police and a man I didn\u2019t recognize talked for a minute before the stranger went back inside. Chief Chad Conrad caught my gaze and headed our way.<\/p>\n

Simpson saw his boss coming. His expression became severe. \u201cI must say you\u2019re pretty calm for someone who just saw a dead body.\u201d<\/p>\n

I latched onto his eyeballs with mine. \u201cLook here, I\u2019ve had seven children, five of those are boys. Between bumps, scrapes, and breaks, there isn\u2019t much more that\u2019ll shock this momma. If one of them boys didn\u2019t drop blood every day they\u2019d thought they was girls. You feelin\u2019 me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, I\u2014\u201d Officer Simpson\u2019s face became a fiery red, and he gave his boss a mortified look. \u201cWhy, no, Mrs. Barnhart, I\u2019d never\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not to say I\u2019m not sorry for Marion. She was a pillar in this community, but she\u2019s also a woman who is well known for her high-handed ways and churlishness. I figure most folk wanted to give her a good push at some point or other, but that doesn\u2019t mean I did it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Chief Conrad presented a slick authority figure beside his younger counterpart. He also maintained the honor of Maple Gap\u2019s most eligible bachelor, though Officer Simpson\u2019s hand, sans ring, might mean the chief\u2019s days retaining that honor were numbered.<\/p>\n

The chief leaned to whisper in Officer Simpson\u2019s ear. Relief flooded the younger man\u2019s face. He sent me one last, almost terrified glance and went back inside.<\/p>\n

Conrad hooked his thumbs over the edge of his thick black belt. Squint creases on either side of his eyes, coupled with his thin lips and dark widow\u2019s peak, gave him the look of a tough guy. \u201cI should appoint you to the force, LaTisha. The way you intimidate people is amazing. You and I could do the good cop\/bad cop routine quite well.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy snorted to life. \u201cYeah, but you\u2019re a little too mean looking to be the nice guy, Chief.\u201d<\/p>\n

The two laughed themselves stupid at that. I crossed my arms and glared. But the idea of being a cop, an investigator, or an officer on the force. . .<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve only got one more semester before I\u2019ll have my degree in police science,\u201d I offered, pointing a finger after the departing Officer Simpson. \u201cBet that boy doesn\u2019t have one of those.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t be too choosey at this point, LaTisha. The budget restraints are stretching us as it is.\u201d His gaze shifted to the store, and I could almost hear his brain churning. He doesn\u2019t know how he\u2019s going to manage a murder investigation as short staffed as he is.<\/p>\n

Conrad pulled his gaze from the store. \u201cHow are you two feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n

I glanced at Hardy, relieved to see the familiar sparkle in his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll survive.\u201d<\/p>\n

Couldn\u2019t help but wince at Hardy\u2019s choice of words. Chief just grinned.<\/p>\n

My curiosity got the best of me. \u201cHow do you think it happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe won\u2019t be sure for a while. State police are on their way with a mobile crime lab vehicle. Could be she just had a bad fall and slammed her head against that radiator.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019d have to have fallen awful hard. It\u2019s not like she weighs a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conrad pursed his lips. \u201cTrue. We\u2019ll let the state men do their thing to find out. In the meantime, there are a few more things I need to ask you. Payton has offered us the use of his store while Nelson finishes taking pictures of the bo\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head and ran a finger across my neck so he wouldn\u2019t shake up Hardy again with reminders of Marion\u2019s body.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014uh, the details.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes Hardy need to stay?\u201d If Conrad insisted on talking bodies and blood, my man needed to leave or we\u2019d be sweeping him up in a dustpan after he shattered.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about I talk to you first. While we\u2019re talking, if Hardy could play us a tune. . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hardy pushed to his feet. \u201cSure thing, as long as Payton doesn\u2019t try to sell me anymore banjo books.\u201d He laced his fingers together and stretched them, palm out in front of him, until his knuckles cracked. \u201cI\u2019m a piano man.\u201d<\/p><\/div>\n

REVIEW:<\/h3>\n

Check out my October 20 review here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter! You never know when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-793","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/793"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=793"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/793\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":795,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/793\/revisions\/795"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}