Maureen Brady

"Billy's Mark"
Back in the tent Ginger and Helen played Parcheesi. They were both smart in school and good at games. Billy came in and watched, sitting in the dirt at Ginger’s feet, the birthmark side of him away from her. His skin was perfect on this side. Very soft. Helen won the game.
“What shall we do now?” she asked then.
Ginger shrugged.
“Anyone want to play doctor?” Helen asked, a sly sparkle in her eye.
Billy said that he would and Ginger added that she would too.
“Who wants to go first?” Billy said, gesturing to the waiting cot.
“I’ll go,” Helen answered, flopping on her back with her arms raised up under her head.
He searched under the cot and pulled out the doctor’s kit. Opened the plastic latch. Drew himself up to look stern and curious. Put the stethoscope to her chest.
“Okay, turn over,” he said. “You’re all right so far.”
He lifted her blouse up so her back was showing, listened more. Concentration in his eyes. Then he told her, “I’ll have to pull your undies down.” Reached under her skirt and did it quickly. Ginger was astounded at his bravery and stopped breathing. Helen’s skirt still covered up her rump, but he moved the stethoscope around her butt, listening through the thin material.
“What can you hear?” she asked.
“A few things,” he replied calmly.
Then Mrs. O’Donovan’s voice boomed out the side window. “Helen, get in here right away, please.”
Helen was up in a flash and gone. Ginger was left with Billy in the even greater darkness because Helen didn’t slow down enough to roll up the tent door.
“Want to go next?” he asked.
It felt like a dare. She said sure but then hesitated, asked him, “Do what?”
“Go on the cot like Helen did.”
He tapped the stethoscope, waiting for her.
It was different to be down there than it had been to be watching. Everything lit up in her body for one thing. When he opened her mouth, when he moved her eyelids, she felt what delicate hands he had -- he would be a good doctor. The feeling of his being younger than her disappeared. He looked into her eyes, and she opened them wider. She liked him seeing her.
When he listened to her chest, she felt as if her heart beat louder. When he pressed her ribs, she felt hot and blushed. When he touched in her armpits, she giggled. He did it a little extra and made her giggle again. Then he moved down to her belly. He poked her belly in with his hands, pushed it toward one side, then the other, just like the real doctor did. He must have forgotten to do this to Helen.
It was so dark in the tent she could hardly see him but she thought he still had that curious look, the inspector. The air was heavy, musty. She felt it coming before he said it -- “You’ll have to turn over now.”
She did it and then her face pressed into the canvas, where there was no fresh air, only guilt smell.
Billy pushed into her fanny the way he’d done her stomach. She had on her jeans and he pushed the two sides together, then let them fall apart. Now he said, “You’ll have to unsnap your pants, there’s something I need to examine more.”
She held her breath but did it as if it was the only thing to do. After all, he was in charge, even if he was only Billy, Helen’s younger brother.
He pulled down her jeans to the top of her legs, pinched her butt through her underpants. She jumped and squealed. He did it some more and her giggles let out some of the bomb that was about to explode in her chest. She felt warm and scared in her belly and all the way up her front she tingled. And in her throat was a yelp that stuck there and couldn’t get out. Then he moved the edge of her underpants down a little with one hand and placed the stethoscope on her bare skin with the other. He listened to her right butt, her left butt, then right at her crack he listened for a long time. She listened too. Heard sounds in her body. Thunder. Fire alarms. And a buzzing heat inside her.
Then he brought the underpants all at once down to the jeans and for a
minute he did nothing. Her face was a total blush, she could feel the air on her
bare skin embarrassing her. Whatever was he doing? Inspecting her? She curled her head to try to see. He was holding up the tongue stick, and then he pressed one side of her buttocks back with the tongue stick a little. She had no idea what he was seeing. She had never seen herself there.
Suddenly the deep barrel of Mr. O'Donovan's voice pierced them. "Billy, where are you? Supper's almost ready." He was nearly at the tent door.
Ginger gasped and the two of them sprung apart. In an instant her pants were up and snapped and she was sitting on the edge of the cot. Billy had thrown all the doctor's tools deep underneath the examining table even before sputtering, "Yes, Dad. Coming, Dad."
The air over the cot still shimmered in the place where Ginger's backside so recently lay.

Ginger's Fire
Ginger's Fire tells the story of one woman's painful but necessary rebirth and awakening. Ginger and Nellie have finally realized their dream: after years of hard work, they have completely restored a beautiful old farmhouse in the Catskill Mountains. But as the house has come together, their relationship has been silently slipping away. When, after all their labors, their beloved home is destroyed in a catastrophic fire, Ginger and Nellie begin to move apart, and Ginger must begin an arduous journey to discover her own long absent passion and inner fire.

Jenifer Levin calls it, "A FINE PIECE OF WORK, written with the compression of poetry."

Folly
When a factory worker's baby does because there are no health benefits at the textile mill where she works, Cora's co-workers decide to strike. Set in the factory town of Victory, North Carolina in the 1970's, Folly records the winning of the strike, and, at the same time, decribes the inner lives of the strike leaders, Folly and Martha, and of all the women and children who depend on the factory for their livelihood. It is an optimistic, witty and dramatic book, rare in depicting black and white women working as peers together and rare in its portrayal of the love that develops between Folly and Martha.

Give Me Your Good Ear
Three generations of women-grandmother, mother, and daughter-share a literal hearing impairment, perhaps inherited. Or perhaps a figurative deafness is being passed down, a silence that comes from words not spoken, questions not confronted, relationships not named.
Alice Walker said of it: "The writing is so good, I heard it all."

Midlife
This is the first meditation book to address all of women's joys and concerns as they encounter the challenges of midlife. It includes daily affirmations and sage advice on hot flashes, mood swings, wisdom gained, and innocence lost.

"I have found that a daily dose of Maureen Brady's Midlife: Meditations for Women has made me feel better than most of my prescription medications. It should be sold in drugstores as well as bookstores." Gayle Sand, author of Is It Hot in Here or Is It Me?

Daybreak
Unknown numbers of women have suffered sexual abuse in childhood. Acknowledging the abuse after years of silence and secrecy and beginning a healing journey require support and encouragement. Long after the abuse is in the past, negative internal messages can invade and linger. Daybreak's positive statements intercept self-defeating messages, guiding readers toward new and healthy ways of thinking feeling, and behaving.