Published by Self-Published on 27th November 2014
Genres: Contemporary, Issues, Mystery, New Adult, Romance
Buy on Amazon US • Buy on Amazon UK
If I tell you right up front, right in the beginning that I lost him, it will be easier for you to bear. You will know it’s coming, and it will hurt. But you’ll be able to prepare.
Someone found him in a laundry basket at the Quick Wash, wrapped in a towel, a few hours old and close to death. They called him Baby Moses when they shared his story on the ten o’clock news – the little baby left in a basket at a dingy Laundromat, born to a crack addict and expected to have all sorts of problems. I imagined the crack baby, Moses, having a giant crack that ran down his body, like he’d been broken at birth. I knew that wasn’t what the term meant, but the image stuck in my mind. Maybe the fact that he was broken drew me to him from the start.
It all happened before I was born, and by the time I met Moses and my mom told me all about him, the story was old news and nobody wanted anything to do with him. People love babies, even sick babies. Even crack babies. But babies grow up to be kids, and kids grow up to be teenagers. Nobody wants a messed up teenager.
And Moses was messed up. Moses was a law unto himself. But he was also strange and exotic and beautiful. To be with him would change my life in ways I could never have imagined. Maybe I should have stayed away. Maybe I should have listened. My mother warned me. Even Moses warned me. But I didn’t stay away.
And so begins a story of pain and promise, of heartache and healing, of life and death. A story of before and after, of new beginnings and never-endings. But most of all...a love story.
Reviewed by Kelly
*I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review*
This is my third Amy Harmon book and it’s now my favourite of the three. The Law of Moses is a beautifully written, perfectly executed story of love, loss, prejudice and acceptance and it BLEW. ME. AWAY. I don’t often feel the need, or actually have the time, to re-read books but I would definitely do that with this one.
Georgia is a small town girl who has a knack with horses. Her parents used to foster children and because of this she has real compassion for people and their problems. Her mother used to teach the kids, and and Georgia as a result, to let go of five things that bothered them and list five things they were thankful for. I love the idea of listing five greats and just appreciating them for what they mean to you at that particular moment. It really got me thinking about what I take for granted and made me think about what *I* appreciate.
Moses is a troubled guy with an equally troubled past and given the small town that his family is from, pretty much everyone knows about it. He’s the person non grata when he turns up to live with his great-grandmother.
The main themes of the book are linked to a side story plot within the story and I loved how it all linked and how everything was so brilliantly plotted and tied together. And yes, I did work it out 😉 Just call me Detective K!
It’s actually difficult to say a lot about The Law of Moses without giving too much away, it’s one of those books that you just need to read and discover everything as you turn each page. As I sat writing this review I found myself staring at my screen at a total loss as to what I could say in this review, there’s so much I WANT to say but also so much I CAN’T say.
And you know what? i’m going to leave it there. Honestly, I just don’t want to spoil it for you, there are already faaaar too many spoilers floating around already. My advice is to stay away from them and JUST. READ. IT!
My mind continually tiptoed to Georgia on the other side of my wall. I could imagine upswept hair and long limbs spilling over the white porcelain of the tub, dark lashes on a smooth cheek, full lips softly parted, and I resisted the urge to start painting all the little details my mind readily supplied. If Vermeer could find beauty in cracks and stains, then I could only imagine what I could create from the pores of her skin.
If I only knew how to paint Georgia into my life, or how to paint myself into hers without overwhelming her, then maybe the trepidation I felt would melt away. I would never be easy to love. There were some colors that overpowered all the others, some colors that didn’t blend.
But I wanted to try. I wanted to try so badly it made my hands shake and the brush fall from my fingers. I snatched it up and walked to the easel set up in the corner, the canvas calling to me, and I began to mix a little of this, a little of that. What had I told Georgia so long ago? What colors would I use to paint her? Peach, gold, pink, white . . . . there were fancy names written on the little tubes I bought in bulk, but I kept it simple in my head.
A sweeping brush stroke brought the line of her neck to life on the canvas in front of me. Then the little ridges along her slim spine, the pale curl on golden skin. But I gave her color too, a dapple here and there, pink and blue and coral, as if there were petals in her hair.
I felt her come up behind me, and I paused, breathing her in before I turned my head and looked down at her. She had donned her running shorts again, but had abandoned the dusty sweatshirt and wore a slim white tank top and nothing on her feet.
“I wanted to paint you,” I said, by way of explanation.
“Because . . . because,” I scrambled for a reason that didn’t include her holding still and letting me stare at her for long periods of time. “I seem to remember you wanting me to paint you. Before.”
“I wanted a lot of things, Moses.”
“I know.” And I was determined to give them to her. Anything and everything within my power.