A Time For Jonathan by Patricia Richardson


In A Time for Jonathan, the exciting sequel to A Place for Ida, Patricia Richardson draws the reader once again into Ida's world.


Heat Level: 3 Flames

In A Time for Jonathan, the exciting sequel to A Place for Ida, Patricia Richardson draws the reader once again into Ida's world. Her precious boy is acting more and more erratically, hitting classmates, striking her. As she struggles to help him, the demons of her childhood come back to haunt her. Could this be the curse she thought she had escaped, coming back to claim her only child?

Whether you are a fan of Ida's, or are meeting her for the first time, you will find her unforgettable. And this tale of love and madness will stay with you long after you put the book down.


He was a wonderful joyous baby, he only cried when he was hungry or wet. Ida had gotten pregnant right away, that’s something that neither she nor Billy had planned, especially since they were living with her mother. She had planned to get a part-time job to help Billy with living expenses and so she could attend college. However, they happily accepted what fate had brought them – her pregnancy. Billy was excited about becoming a father again. Ida felt that he had not completely gotten over the loss of their child when she was raped by the rednecks in South Carolina, when she was a teenager. And Harriet was delighted to have a new addition to her now loving family. So much so, she was willing to give up her bedroom and sleep in the living room so that there would be a room for the baby and they wouldn’t have to ever move.

Living with Harriet was wonderful, she was a great mother and mother-in-law, she seemed to always know the right things to say or when to leave a room to give them the privacy they needed. After the wedding there had been no time for a honeymoon. Billy had to look for a job and Ida settled into her role as a housewife. So when they were finally able to move into their luxury apartment, with a doorman, wall to wall carpeting, and chandeliers, it was like going on a honeymoon. They had all the privacy and luxury they could dream of.

Ida often walked through their lavish apartment, which was elegantly decorated. Her feet sank in the thick carpeting, tugging at her feet with every movement. Beautiful Nubian art adorned the walls. The plush sectional sofa took up an entire wall in the living room, beautiful green leafy plants bedecked just the right places, making every room feel and look cozy. Despite all the luxuries Ida’s favorite pastime was admiring the beautiful view of the city through the skyline windows that covered the wall behind the couch.

Her mind drifted back to where she had come from, her miseries as a child in South Carolina periodically haunted her. The prejudice she and her family endured from the rednecks, the house behind the woods with all its snakes, how her brother Harry had died, after he was bitten by one that slithered its way into the kitchen one night. She closed her eyes, remembering the miseries of her childhood in New York, her struggles to survive with her alcoholic, uncaring mother and her mother’s drunken boyfriend Joe. Her evil, selfish sister Rebecca added to her anxiety.

She loved thinking about the happy times she and Billy spent planning their lives, and all their love-making under her grandmother’s house. But she had also spent hours crying, pleading to God to help her find her place in life and to meet her father who had left them when she was just an infant. They finally did meet when he and his son Edward moved to New York, leaving the woman he had left her mother for in Chicago and, to everyone’s surprise, they moved into the same neighborhood as her mother, Harriet. She also prayed for her mother and sisters, who disliked her and treated her evilly for as long as she could remember, to love her and treat her as family. It had all happened with God’s help, Harriet had managed to bring her family together as one, loving and caring about each other – after she almost died from alcohol poisoning.


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