Thursday Threads: Confederado do Norte by Linda Pennell
Confederado do Norte
by Linda Bennett Pennell
Genre: Women’s Historical
Fiction
Due for Release: July 2014
Other Books: Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel now available from Soul Mate Publishing
Website: http://www.lindapennell.com/
Back Cover Description for Confederado do Norte:
October, 1866.
Mary Catherine is devastated when her family emigrates from Georgia to
Brazil because her father and maternal uncle refuse to accept the terms of
Reconstruction following the Confederacy’s defeat. Shortly after arrival in
their new country, she is orphaned, leaving her in Uncle Nathan’s care. He
hates Mary Catherine, blaming her for his sister’s death. She despises him
because she believes Nathan murdered her father. When Mary Catherine discovers
Nathan’s plan to be rid of her as well, she flees into the wilderness filled
with jaguars and equally dangerous men. Finding refuge among kind peasants, she
grows into a beauty, ultimately marrying the scion of a wealthy Portuguese
family. Happiness and security seem assured until civil unrest brings armed
marauders who have an inexplicable connection to Mary Catherine. Recreating
herself has protected Mary Catherine in the past, but the latest crisis will
demand all of the courage, intelligence, and creativity she possesses simply to
survive.
Excerpt from Confederado do Norte
Chapter 1
I dreamt
the dream again last night. In the small hours, I awoke in a tumble of
bedclothes and bathed in perspiration despite the howling snowstorm blanketing
the city. I rearranged quilts and plumped pillows, but sleep remained elusive.
My mind refused to be quiet.
As often
happens after such a night, I felt unable to rise at my usual hour and remained
abed long after the maids cleared breakfast from the morning room. My
daughter-in-law, bless her heart, meant well. I told her it was ridiculous to
bring the doctor out on such a frigid day, but apparently the very old, like
the very young, are not to be trusted in matters of judgment. After the doctor
listened to my chest, a studied sympathy filled his eyes and he gently
suggested that perhaps I should get my affairs in order. No doubt he wondered
at my smile for he couldn’t have known I have no affairs other than my memories
and the emotions they engender.
Unlike
most elderly persons, I don’t revel in slogging through the past. It isn’t
wrapped in pretty ribbons or surrounded by a golden aura. Instead, its voices
haunt my dreams, demanding and accusatory. Until recently, I’ve resisted their
intrusion into my waking life, but I now believe the past can no longer remain
buried in nocturnal visions. It must be brought out into the light of day. From
its earliest moments onward, the past’s substance must be gouged out, pulled
apart, and examined bit by bit until its truth is exposed. While total
objectivity may not be possible, I have concluded that committing the past to
paper is my best hope for sorting facts from imaginings. Perhaps then I will
achieve the peace that has so long hidden its face from me.
You see,
when I was quite young—only a girl really—I killed four people. Two were dearly
beloved, one was a hated enemy, and the last was a dangerous criminal.
Comments
Post a Comment