Three Shoeboxes by Steven Manchester ~ GIVEAWAY!!
5 STARS!
ABOUT THE BOOK -
Mac Anderson holds life in the palm of his hand. He has a beautiful wife, three loving children, a comfortable home, and a successful career. Everything is perfectāor so it seems. Tragically, Mac is destined to learn that any sense of security can quickly prove false. Because an invisible enemy called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has invaded Macās fragile mind and it is about to drop him to his knees. He does all he can to conceal his inner chaos, but to no avail. Left to contend with ignorance, an insensitive justice system, and the struggles of an invisible disease, he loses everythingāmost importantly his family.
One shoebox might store an old pair of sneakers. Two shoeboxes might contain a lifetime of photographs. But in Three Shoeboxes, a fatherās undying love may be just enough to make things right again.
Details
Genre: Women's FictionPublished by: The Story Plant
Publication Date: June 12th 2018
Number of Pages: 285
ISBN: 1611882605 (ISBN13: 9781611882605)
Purchase Links:
Pre-publication endorsements:
āCompelling and emotional, Three Shoeboxes takes readers on a heart-wrenching journey through some of lifeās toughest challenges, always with the ever-present sense of the transforming power of love and hope. Three Shoeboxes is Steven Manchester at his finest.ā - Carla Neggers, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author, Harbor Island and Echo Lake ā
Raw, moving and brutally honestāSteven Manchester takes you on an emotional rollercoaster. Grab your tissues for this heart-wrenching storyābetter yet, grab a box full!ā - Tanya Anne Crosby, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author, The Girl Who Stayed "
Three Shoeboxes is a compassionate, accessible portrait of a vitally important topic, PTSD, how it affects the sufferer and the familyāand how to find hope and healing." - Jenna Blum, NYT & International Bestselling Author, Those Who Save Us and Storm Chasers ā
Three Shoeboxes is terrific writing. Manchesterās protagonistās life becomes nightmarish, his rage palpable, and his ultimate redemption breathtaking. It was enough to bring this reader to tears.ā - John Lansing, #1 Bestselling Author, The Devilās Necktie
Read an excerpt:
Mac jumped up, panting like an obese dog suffering in a heat wave. His heart drummed out of his chest. Startled from a sound sleep, he didnāt know what was wrong. He leapt out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. He couldnāt breathe. He couldnāt think. Thereās something wrong, he finally thought, Iā¦I need help. He searched frantically for an enemy. There was none. As he stared at the frightened man in the mirror, he considered calling out to his sleeping wife. She has enough to worry about with the kids, he thought, but was already hurrying toward her. āJen,ā he said in a strained whisper.
She stirred but didnāt open her eyes.
The constricted chest, sweaty face and shaking hands made Mac wonder whether he was standing at deathās door, cardiac arrest being his ticket in. I have to do something now, he thought, or Iām a goner. āJen,ā he said louder, shaking her shoulder.
One eye opened. She looked up at him.
āItās happening again,ā he said in a voice that could have belonged to a frightened little boy.
Jen shot up in bed. āWhat is it?ā
āIā¦I canāt breathe. My heart keeps fluttering and I feelā¦ā
āIām calling an ambulance,ā she said, fumbling for her cell phone.
āNo,ā he said instinctively, āitāll scare the kids.ā
She looked up at him like he was crazy.
āIāll go to the emergency room right now!ā Grabbing for a pair of pants, he started to slide into them.
Jen sprang out of the bed. āIāll call my mom and have her come over to watch the kids. In the meantime, Jillian canā¦ā
Mac shook his foggy head, halting her. āNo, Iām okay to drive,ā he said, trying to breathe normally.
āBut babe,ā she began to protest, fear glassing over her eyes.
āIāll text you as soon as I get there,ā he promised, āand then call you just as soon as they tell me what the hellās going on.ā
Jenās eyes filled. āOh Macā¦ā
He shot her a smile, at least he tried to, before rushing out of the house and hyperventilating all the way to the hospital.
ā§
Iām here, Mac texted Jen before shutting off the ringer on his phone.
The scowling intake nurse brought him right in at the mention of āchest pains.ā Within minutes, the E.R. staff went to work like a well-choreographed NASCAR pit crew, simultaneously drawing blood while wiring his torso to a portable EKG machine.
As quickly as the team had responded, they filed out of the curtained room. A young nurse, yanking the sticky discs from Macās chest, feigned a smile. āTry to relax, Mr. Anderson. It may take a little bit before the doctor receives all of your test results.ā
For what seemed like forever, Mac sat motionless on the hospital gurney, a white curtain drawn around him. I hope it isnāt my heart, he thought, the kids are still so young and they needā¦
āWho do we have in number four?ā a female voice asked just outside of Macās alcove.
Mac froze to listen in.
āSome guy who came in complaining of chest pains,ā another voice answered at a strained whisper. āTest results show nothing. Just another anxiety attack.ā
No way, Mac thought, not knowing whether he should feel insulted or relieved.
āLike we have time to deal with that crap,ā the first voice said. āCan you imagine if men had to give birth?ā
Both ladies laughed.
No frigginā way, Mac thought before picturing his wifeās frightened face. She must be worried sick. But I canāt call her without talking to the doctor. Sheādā¦
The curtain snapped open, revealing a young man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
This kid canāt be a doctor, Mac thought, the world suddenly feeling like it had been turned upside down.
āYour heart is fine, Mr. Anderson,ā the doctor quickly reported, his eyes on his clipboard. āIām fairly certain you suffered a panic attack.ā He looked up and grinned, but even his smile was rushed. āSometimes the symptoms can mirror serious physical ailments.ā
Mac was confused, almost disappointed. So, what I experienced wasnāt serious? he asked in his head.
The young man scribbled something onto a small square pad, tore off the top sheet and handed it to Mac. āThisāll make you feel better,ā he said, prescribing a sedative that promised to render Mac more useless than the alleged attack.
āUmmmā¦okay,ā Mac said, his face burning red.
The doctor nodded. āStress is the number one cause of these symptoms,ā he concluded. āDo you have someone you can talk to?ā
Mac returned the nod, thinking, I need to get the hell out of here. Although he appreciated the concern, he was mired in a state of disbelief. Iām a master of the corporate rat race, he thought, unable to accept the medicine manās spiel. If anyone knows how to survive stress, itās me.
āThatās great,ā the doctor said, vanishing as quickly as heād appeared.
My problem is physical, Mac confirmed in his head, it has to be. He finished tying his shoes.
Pulling back the curtain, he was met by the stare of several female nurses. He quickly applied his false mask of strength and smiled. A panic attack, he repeated to himself. When put into words, the possibility was chilling.
The nurses smiled back, each one of them wearing the same judgmental smirk.
With his jacket tucked under his arm, Mac started down the hallway. Sure, he thought, I have plenty of people I can talk to. He pulled open the door that led back into the crowded waiting room. That is, if I actually thought it was anxiety.
ā§
Mac sat in the parking lot for a few long minutes, attempting to process the strange events of the last several days. Although he felt physically tired, there werenāt any symptoms or residual effects of the awful episodes heād experiencedānot a trace of the paralyzing terror I felt. And they just came out of the blue. He shook his head. How can it not be physical? He thought about the current state of his life. Work is work, itās always going to come with a level of stress, but thatās nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head again. I just donāt get it. He grabbed his cell phone and called Jen. āHi, itās me.ā
āAre you okay?ā she asked, the worry in her voice making him feel worse.
āIām fine, babe.ā
āFine?ā she said, confused. āWhat did the doctor say?ā
āHe said itās not my heart.ā
āOh, thank God.ā
Her reactionāalthough completely understandableāstruck him funny, making him feel like the boy who cried wolf.
āSo what is it then?ā she asked.
He hesitated, feeling oddly embarrassed to share the unbelievable diagnosis.
āMac?ā
āThe doctor thinks it was aā¦a panic attack.ā
This time, she paused. āA panic attack?ā she repeated, clearly searching for more words. Then, as a born problem solver, she initiated her usual barrage of questions. āDid they give you something for it? Is there any follow up?ā
āYes, and maybe.ā
āWhat does that mean?ā
āHe gave me pills that Iād rather not take if I donāt need to. And he suggested I go talk to someone.ā
āTalk to someone? You mean like a therapist?ā
āIām pretty sure thatās what he meant.ā
āOh,ā she said, obviously taken aback. āThen thatās exactly what you should do.ā
āI donāt knowā¦ā
āIs there something bothering you I donāt know about, Mac,ā she asked, ābecause you can talk to me, too, you know.ā
āI know, babe. But thereās nothing bothering me, honest.ā He took a deep breath. āFor what itās worth, I donāt buy the anxiety attack diagnosis.ā
āWell, whatever you were feeling this morning was real enough, right? I could see it in your face. It wouldnāt hurt anything for you to go talk to someone.ā She still sounded scared and he hated it.
āMaybe not,ā he replied, appeasing her. In the back of his head, though, he was already contemplating how much he should continue to share with herāor protect her from. āI need to get to work,ā he said.
āWhy donāt you just take the day off and relax?ā she suggested.
Here we go, he thought. āI wish I could, babe,ā he said, ābut we have way too much going on at the office right now.ā
āAnd maybe thatās part of your problem,ā she said.
āIāll be fine, Jen,ā he promised. āWeāll talk when I get home, okay?ā
āOkay.ā
āLove you,ā he said.
āAnd I love you,ā she said in a tone intended for him to remember it.
***
Excerpt from Three Shoeboxes by Steven Manchester. Copyright Ā© 2018 by Steven Manchester. Reproduced with permission from The Story Plant. All rights reserved.
She stirred but didnāt open her eyes.
The constricted chest, sweaty face and shaking hands made Mac wonder whether he was standing at deathās door, cardiac arrest being his ticket in. I have to do something now, he thought, or Iām a goner. āJen,ā he said louder, shaking her shoulder.
One eye opened. She looked up at him.
āItās happening again,ā he said in a voice that could have belonged to a frightened little boy.
Jen shot up in bed. āWhat is it?ā
āIā¦I canāt breathe. My heart keeps fluttering and I feelā¦ā
āIām calling an ambulance,ā she said, fumbling for her cell phone.
āNo,ā he said instinctively, āitāll scare the kids.ā
She looked up at him like he was crazy.
āIāll go to the emergency room right now!ā Grabbing for a pair of pants, he started to slide into them.
Jen sprang out of the bed. āIāll call my mom and have her come over to watch the kids. In the meantime, Jillian canā¦ā
Mac shook his foggy head, halting her. āNo, Iām okay to drive,ā he said, trying to breathe normally.
āBut babe,ā she began to protest, fear glassing over her eyes.
āIāll text you as soon as I get there,ā he promised, āand then call you just as soon as they tell me what the hellās going on.ā
Jenās eyes filled. āOh Macā¦ā
He shot her a smile, at least he tried to, before rushing out of the house and hyperventilating all the way to the hospital.
ā§
Iām here, Mac texted Jen before shutting off the ringer on his phone.
The scowling intake nurse brought him right in at the mention of āchest pains.ā Within minutes, the E.R. staff went to work like a well-choreographed NASCAR pit crew, simultaneously drawing blood while wiring his torso to a portable EKG machine.
As quickly as the team had responded, they filed out of the curtained room. A young nurse, yanking the sticky discs from Macās chest, feigned a smile. āTry to relax, Mr. Anderson. It may take a little bit before the doctor receives all of your test results.ā
For what seemed like forever, Mac sat motionless on the hospital gurney, a white curtain drawn around him. I hope it isnāt my heart, he thought, the kids are still so young and they needā¦
āWho do we have in number four?ā a female voice asked just outside of Macās alcove.
Mac froze to listen in.
āSome guy who came in complaining of chest pains,ā another voice answered at a strained whisper. āTest results show nothing. Just another anxiety attack.ā
No way, Mac thought, not knowing whether he should feel insulted or relieved.
āLike we have time to deal with that crap,ā the first voice said. āCan you imagine if men had to give birth?ā
Both ladies laughed.
No frigginā way, Mac thought before picturing his wifeās frightened face. She must be worried sick. But I canāt call her without talking to the doctor. Sheādā¦
The curtain snapped open, revealing a young man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
This kid canāt be a doctor, Mac thought, the world suddenly feeling like it had been turned upside down.
āYour heart is fine, Mr. Anderson,ā the doctor quickly reported, his eyes on his clipboard. āIām fairly certain you suffered a panic attack.ā He looked up and grinned, but even his smile was rushed. āSometimes the symptoms can mirror serious physical ailments.ā
Mac was confused, almost disappointed. So, what I experienced wasnāt serious? he asked in his head.
The young man scribbled something onto a small square pad, tore off the top sheet and handed it to Mac. āThisāll make you feel better,ā he said, prescribing a sedative that promised to render Mac more useless than the alleged attack.
āUmmmā¦okay,ā Mac said, his face burning red.
The doctor nodded. āStress is the number one cause of these symptoms,ā he concluded. āDo you have someone you can talk to?ā
Mac returned the nod, thinking, I need to get the hell out of here. Although he appreciated the concern, he was mired in a state of disbelief. Iām a master of the corporate rat race, he thought, unable to accept the medicine manās spiel. If anyone knows how to survive stress, itās me.
āThatās great,ā the doctor said, vanishing as quickly as heād appeared.
My problem is physical, Mac confirmed in his head, it has to be. He finished tying his shoes.
Pulling back the curtain, he was met by the stare of several female nurses. He quickly applied his false mask of strength and smiled. A panic attack, he repeated to himself. When put into words, the possibility was chilling.
The nurses smiled back, each one of them wearing the same judgmental smirk.
With his jacket tucked under his arm, Mac started down the hallway. Sure, he thought, I have plenty of people I can talk to. He pulled open the door that led back into the crowded waiting room. That is, if I actually thought it was anxiety.
ā§
Mac sat in the parking lot for a few long minutes, attempting to process the strange events of the last several days. Although he felt physically tired, there werenāt any symptoms or residual effects of the awful episodes heād experiencedānot a trace of the paralyzing terror I felt. And they just came out of the blue. He shook his head. How can it not be physical? He thought about the current state of his life. Work is work, itās always going to come with a level of stress, but thatās nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head again. I just donāt get it. He grabbed his cell phone and called Jen. āHi, itās me.ā
āAre you okay?ā she asked, the worry in her voice making him feel worse.
āIām fine, babe.ā
āFine?ā she said, confused. āWhat did the doctor say?ā
āHe said itās not my heart.ā
āOh, thank God.ā
Her reactionāalthough completely understandableāstruck him funny, making him feel like the boy who cried wolf.
āSo what is it then?ā she asked.
He hesitated, feeling oddly embarrassed to share the unbelievable diagnosis.
āMac?ā
āThe doctor thinks it was aā¦a panic attack.ā
This time, she paused. āA panic attack?ā she repeated, clearly searching for more words. Then, as a born problem solver, she initiated her usual barrage of questions. āDid they give you something for it? Is there any follow up?ā
āYes, and maybe.ā
āWhat does that mean?ā
āHe gave me pills that Iād rather not take if I donāt need to. And he suggested I go talk to someone.ā
āTalk to someone? You mean like a therapist?ā
āIām pretty sure thatās what he meant.ā
āOh,ā she said, obviously taken aback. āThen thatās exactly what you should do.ā
āI donāt knowā¦ā
āIs there something bothering you I donāt know about, Mac,ā she asked, ābecause you can talk to me, too, you know.ā
āI know, babe. But thereās nothing bothering me, honest.ā He took a deep breath. āFor what itās worth, I donāt buy the anxiety attack diagnosis.ā
āWell, whatever you were feeling this morning was real enough, right? I could see it in your face. It wouldnāt hurt anything for you to go talk to someone.ā She still sounded scared and he hated it.
āMaybe not,ā he replied, appeasing her. In the back of his head, though, he was already contemplating how much he should continue to share with herāor protect her from. āI need to get to work,ā he said.
āWhy donāt you just take the day off and relax?ā she suggested.
Here we go, he thought. āI wish I could, babe,ā he said, ābut we have way too much going on at the office right now.ā
āAnd maybe thatās part of your problem,ā she said.
āIāll be fine, Jen,ā he promised. āWeāll talk when I get home, okay?ā
āOkay.ā
āLove you,ā he said.
āAnd I love you,ā she said in a tone intended for him to remember it.
***
Excerpt from Three Shoeboxes by Steven Manchester. Copyright Ā© 2018 by Steven Manchester. Reproduced with permission from The Story Plant. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Steven Manchester is the author of the #1 bestsellers Twelve Months, The Rockinā Chair, Pressed Pennies, and Gooseberry Island, the national bestseller Ashes, and the novels Goodnight, Brian and The Changing Season. His work has appeared on NBCās Today Show, CBSās The Early Show, CNNās American Morning, and BETās Nightly News. Recently, three of Manchesterās short stories were selected ā101 Bestā for the Chicken Soup for the Soul series.Connect with Steven at:
stevenmanchester.com
Twitter - @AuthorSteveM
Facebook - @AuthorStevenManchester
MY THOUGHTS -
Wow! Great job Steve!! I think I have read 9 of Steve's books and I will have to say - this is my favorite so far! I don't really know why. What is it about a book that makes you like one more than another? I guess I just connected with this one. It was about a husband's PTSD and anxiety attacks. I have never personally known anyone who has gone through this. So it wasn't personal for me in that way. It just felt so real for me!
The beginning was breaking my heart. To see Mac and his family fall apart like that was so sad. Half way through I was in tears (well sobbing really LOL) and I really didn't expect that. But you know I do love books that make me cry. I am so glad that the author chose to let us in on Mac's thoughts. If he hadn't done this I would have thought Mac was a real jerk! When really he was sick, he couldn't help it. He was really struggling on the inside. Personally I don't think his wife was handling it very well, but I don't know how I would react if it were me. Maybe I wouldn't do any batter. but she just seemed to be adding to the problem and that made me feel for Mac all the more.
I really love the children as well. I thought the author did a great job portraying them. I think their reactions to their father's sudden outbursts were spot on.
I guess a good word for this story is - relevant. It is relevant, important, and very real.
I highly recommend this one!
A huge two thumbs up!
I voluntarily posted this review after receiving a copy of this book from Providence Book Promotions ~ Thank You!
I thought this was so powerful in the message. I will admit, the tears were flowing for me too.
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