The Tutor




“A story of redemption… as to who is redeemed and who is not, well, therein lies the suspense.” 





Natalie (the tutor) is fleeing her unconscionable husband. Matti is fleeing what he witnessed his father do. They end up on the little known island of Roatan, where Natalie’s new friend, Izzy, is fleeing from old island ways that hold women back. Nic, who ends up on the island through a strange set of circumstances, wants to flee his overbearing family. But at what cost will each of them find their redemption?


Beautiful story of a woman’s journey to empowerment…

Love, Betrayal, and Paradise. What more could you want…

Lyrical and suspenseful tale of escape and renewal…


EXCERPT (an Izzy scene)






You listen here, missy . . . you is nothin’ but dust off the Roatan roads.







Uncle Roy stood up slowly, and Uncle Raymond followed his lead. Strutting to the door, Uncle Roy stopped within inches of Izzy and stared her down one last time. “You listen here, missy . . . you is nothin’ but dust off the Roatan roads. Don’t be thinkin’ you some big business gal . . . better than yo’ family down the ways, ’round the bend from these here rich folk.”

“I woulda gladly given you some o’ my wedding monies, were you to ask. Even now, I be generous with my profits where family is concerned. If only that family really considered me to be one o’ them.”

Uncle Roy and younger brother Raymond walked on out, their heads held higher than Izzy had ever seen them, with nothing more to say.  They strolled down the road and when nearly out of earshot Uncle Roy turned to view Izzy, still holding the screen door wide open. Uncle Roy shouted, “You stop sendin’ them potions to my daughter for my granchillen . . . you hear me, Izzy?”

“I hear ya, Uncle Roy, but that’s between Sarah Jean and me.” Then she added, “You all come back any time. And I be servin’ you a meal if you want. You is always welcome. Pass the word now, you hear?”

Uncle Roy looked at Raymond, and then both men chuckled. Izzy continued to watch them walk down the road and when they were out of sight, she slowly closed the screen door. Leaning against it, she took a good look around . . . from the café tables she’d sewn the cloths for herself, to the refurbished and well-used computers along the wall.

What good fortune she’d had to build this thriving business. Thanks to her daddy, but who was she kidding? It was Diego and Mira that gave him the generous back pay. They knew what her daddy would do with the money, seeing as her mama was dying of malaria at the time and it was right before her wedding to Solomon.

Tears ran down Izzy’s cheeks as she sank to the floor in a heap, wailing and moaning. But then she stood up tall and proud, and smoothed her vibrant green sundress.

“Damn you, Uncle Roy . . . and Uncle Raymond too!” Izzy shouted to the empty room. “I ain’t sorry for none of it. Not for this here home and business o’ mine, or who my mama was, or my daddy. I ain’t sorry for knowin’ Diego, and I sure as rain ain’t sorry for lovin’ him!” Izzy stared out the screen door at dust clouds in the road, rising off the hard, dry earth and whispered under her breath, “Maybe I amdust off the Roatan road, Uncle Roy . . . ’cause the harder you tries to knock dust down, the higher it rises.”

Author page at WGP: Kathryn Mattingly

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