Manager, Educator, and former High School Social Studies teacher, Veronica credits her love of history to the potpourri of cultures that make up her own life and to her upbringing in diverse Brooklyn, New York.
Her Work in Progress is a Young Adult Novel based on a search into her ethnic roots that explores identity, belonging, and self-discovery. Her genres of choice are historical fiction, where she always makes new discoveries, literary works because she loves beautiful writing, and children’s picture books because there are so many wonderful worlds yet to be imagined and visited.
She currently resides in Macungie, PA., but she’s still a Brooklyn girl at heart. How sweet it is!
Veronica’s story “Fiona Malone’s Fesh,” was featured in the Fall 2021 Issue of Bethlehem Writers Roundtable and is archived above.
In addition to her fiction, she has a monthly column, Write from the Heart, here on A Slice of Orange where she writes about writing, life and does book reviews.
Connect with her on Facebook @VeronicaJorgeauthor
The post promised an autumnal birding phenomenon not to be missed. Steph wasn’t really a birder—she could never tell one sparrow from another—but she did like birds. The local nature site urged anyone interested to show up just before dusk at a reservoir in the hills of Bucks County. There they would watch as a large flock of starlings swooped and tumbled in a remarkable, unified movement called a murmuration.
She reached out to several friends, but no one could make it. And Claire was gone; Claire, who had given Steph a rudimentary lesson on birds several years before. Steph didn’t know if Claire had ever seen the starling flock. She would go, alone, in memory of her friend.
When she arrived at the nature center, a tangerine sun sat on the horizon. A handful of cars filled the lot, and a knot of people stood outside the building entrance, which was flanked by several large pumpkins and a scarecrow. Steph made her way to the group, adjusting her binoculars around her neck. The center director, a woman in a blue down vest and a wool watch cap, was already talking.
“We’ll take the boardwalk to the lake shore,” the director said. “That’s the best place to see the birds. They’ll start arriving within the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”
Intimidated by what she thought of as “true” birders, Steph hung at the back of the group as they set off toward the lake. The slight October breeze made her zip her fleece jacket and pull out her mittens. It carried a faint whiff of fireplace smoke and moldering vegetation. Dried leaves scuttled along the wooden planks and crunched under hiking boots, and a handful of crows cawed overhead. Claire would have been at the front of the line, pulling Steph along, making her feel at home and welcome despite her limited knowledge of avian life.
Many birds are like people. They prefer to hang out in groups. That was a bit of Claire wisdom Steph dredged up as she walked. But Steph was more of a loner. More like a heron, she decided, preferring to watch the world by herself. Except. She missed Claire.
“Everyone!” the center director shouted. “The starlings are starting to gather across the lake. Keep an eye on the small flocks. They’ll merge into bigger and bigger groups.”
Focusing the binoculars at the far shore, Steph swept them up and around, listening as others in the group called out. Sure enough a small flock dipped and turned in the distance. Another flock appeared to the left. Yet another materialized. Soon the flocks became one—a large swirling mass of dark birds dancing to their own feathered rhythm.
“Oh, Claire,” Steph breathed. If only she could have seen this magical phenomenon.
As if in answer, the now-large flock swooped upward as one entity and curved to the right. The trailing birds formed a line, and the complete symbol became the letter C.
In a whisper on the wind, Steph could have sworn she heard Claire’s voice: Even herons need companionship. Don’t be afraid to reach out.
About Jina Bacarr
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.
I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling.
I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot cup of java by my side. I adore dark chocolate truffles, vintage anything, the smell of bread baking and rainy days in museums. I’ve always loved walking through history—from Pompeii to Verdun to Old Paris. The voices of the past speak to me through carriages with cracked leather seats, stiff ivory-colored crinolines, and worn satin slippers. I’ve always wondered what it was like to walk in those slippers when they were new.
You can follow Jina on social media:
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Jina also has a column here on the 11th of every month: Jina’s Book Chat.
Paris, 1942: Two sisters in Paris had their lives torn apart. Now they must choose – save themselves, or fight the Nazis to the very end…
I’d given up everything to fight for the Resistance. But nothing prepared me for discovering my sister was a traitor. Kept by a Nazi SS officer, outwardly she barely resembles my beloved Justine anymore.
But I guessed her secret. About her beautiful, fragile little child. The baby she’ll do anything to protect. And I believe that deep down she still knows what is right.
As the Nazis threaten everything we ever held dear, I know I have one chance. I must convince her to betray the evil she seems to have chosen. I need her to find her true self once more.
Because I need her to join the fight…
Could you choose your country – and what is right – over the person you once loved more than anyone in the world?
Unmissable, heartbreaking, gripping WW2 fiction, perfect for fans of Soraya M. Lane, Ellie Midwood and Jean Grainger.
A Few of Jina’s Other Books
crow flies overhead
I hear pandemonium
shrieking birds gone berserk
my peace disturbed
through my window
I peek
to see a world gone awry
a baby bird in its beak
the black crow on sleek wings
no match for smaller things
always comes back
to Darwin
© Neetu Malik
So, even though we are not in the December holiday season yet, I thought it would be fitting to post this particular book review now in October. Don’t most stores already have their holiday decorations on display? I also figured that if Hallmark can feature Christmas movies in July, I’m a lot closer to the season in October.
Besides, it’s never too early to get a jump start on your Christmas shopping because you’ll want this book.
For those of you not familiar with Three Kings Day, known in Spanish as, el Día de los Reyes Magos, it is celebrated throughout Latin America, Spain, and some other countries in Europe on January 6th in commemoration of the three wise men from the east, known as Balthazar, Melchior, and Gaspar, who brought gifts to honor the birth of the baby Jesus.
Instead of waiting for Santa Claus, children wait for gifts from the Three Kings. No milk and cookies for them. My mother, who grew up in the Dominican Republic, said they would always leave water and some grass or hay for the camels. The place to look for your gifts was not under a tree, but underneath your bed.
Colon-Bagley’s story, in Spanish and English, is told with the rhyming cadence of, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. As two of her lines read:
“We wrapped our shoeboxes with glee and delight, knowing the Three Kings would be here tonight.”
And, “While Papá washed the dishes and walked our perrito, Mamá tucked us in with a good night besito.”
Vibrant colorful illustrations by Alejandro Mesa depict the excitement in the home as the family prepares for the wondrous arrival.
Decorating the house. Wrapping gifts for each other. A buffet table feast with scrumptious food. Singing and dancing. And excited children begging to stay up late. Well, you get the picture.
And I hope you’ll get the book. It is a delightful holiday story that you just might find yourself adding to your Christmas books collection and pulling if off the shelf to read year after year after year.
Oh, and don’t forget to stock up on some hay!
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on November 22nd!
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