My Daughter's Legacy

Starns Clark Mindy

Description

Women of Unfailing ConvictionVirginia, 1864 Therese Jennings cannot abide the thought of owning slaves. When her widowed mother inherits a plantation, Therese flees to Civil War Richmond, where she works as a governess by day and tends to wounded soldiers at night. But when trouble befalls her family, can she reconcile her obligations with her beliefs? And will lovewhether with an old beau or a handsome new suitorever fit in her broken world?Virginia, present day Nicole Talbot's life is back on track after years of substance abuse. Home from college for the summer, she's finally ready to share a shocking secret, one that raises new questions about a traumatic childhood experience. But when facts she uncovers cast doubt on her family's legacy, she must risk all that she's gainedher fresh start, her family's trust, and her growing relationship with a new manto unlock the secrets of the past.* * * From the Christy Award-winning team of Mindy Starns Clark and Leslie Gould comes a thrilling tale of two women longing to follow God's leading, make the most of second chances, and find true love at last.

Informations

• Publié par: Harvest House Publishers
• Date de parution: 27 juin 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780736962933
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Books by Mindy Starns Clark and Leslie Gould
C OUSINS OF THE D OVE
My Brother s Crown
My Sister s Prayer
My Daughter s Legacy
T HE W OMEN OF L ANCASTER C OUNTY
The Amish Midwife
The Amish Nanny
The Amish Bride
The Amish Seamstress
Other Fiction by Mindy Starns Clark
T HE M EN OF L ANCASTER C OUNTY
( WITH S USAN M EISSNER )
The Amish Groom
The Amish Blacksmith
The Amish Clockmaker
T HE M ILLION D OLLAR M YSTERIES
A Penny for Your Thoughts
Don t Take Any Wooden Nickels
A Dime a Dozen
A Quarter for a Kiss
The Buck Stops Here
S TANDALONE M YSTERIES
Whispers of the Bayou
Shadows of Lancaster County
Under the Cajun Moon
Secrets of Harmony Grove
Echoes of Titanic
(with John Campbell Clark)
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version , NIV . Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide; and the King James Version of the Bible. Italics used are for emphasis by the authors.
Cover by Garborg Design Works
Cover Image kvd design; kladyk / Bigstock
The authors are represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
MY DAUGHTER S LEGACY
Copyright 2017 by Mindy Starns Clark and Leslie Gould
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
ISBN 978-0-7369-6292-6 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6293-3 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Clark, Mindy Starns, author. | Gould, Leslie, author.
Title: My daughter s legacy / Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould.
Description: Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers, [2017] | Series: Cousins of the dove; 3
Identifiers: LCCN 2017005464 (print) | LCCN 2017011335 (ebook) | ISBN 9780736962926 (softcover) | ISBN 9780736962933 (eBook) | ISBN 9780736962933 (ebook)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Christian / Historical. | FICTION / Christian / Romance. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3603.L366 M93 2017 (print) | LCC PS3603.L366 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6-dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017005464
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other-without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author s and publisher s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication

For our strong, creative, and devoted daughters,
Emily and Lauren Clark
and
Hana and Thao Gould.
You are our legacies.
Yea, the sparrow hath found an house,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young, even thine altars,
O L ORD of hosts, my King, and my God.
P SALM 84:3
Contents
Books by Mindy Starns Clark and Leslie Gould
Dedication
Chapter One: Nicole
Chapter Two: Nicole
Chapter Three: Nicole
Chapter Four: Nicole
Chapter Five: Therese
Chapter Six: Therese
Chapter Seven: Therese
Chapter Eight: Therese
Chapter Nine: Nicole
Chapter Ten: Nicole
Chapter Eleven: Nicole
Chapter Twelve: Therese
Chapter Thirteen: Therese
Chapter Fourteen: Therese
Chapter Fifteen: Therese
Chapter Sixteen: Therese
Chapter Seventeen: Nicole
Chapter Eighteen: Nicole
Chapter Nineteen: Therese
Chapter Twenty: Therese
Chapter Twenty-One: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Two: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Three: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Four: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Five: Nicole
Chapter Twenty-Six: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Nicole
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Therese
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nicole
Chapter Thirty: Nicole
Chapter Thirty-One: Therese
Chapter Thirty-Two: Nicole
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Women of Uncommon Courage
Women of Fearless Devotion
About the Publisher
C HAPTER O NE
Nicole
S ometimes a lie was the better choice-or at least that s what I d always told myself. After all, lying was easier, faster, and more efficient than the truth. I m sick was a more prudent option than I m sick of working. I m busy was a lot kinder than I don t want to. But for some, lying could become a habit, the proverbial spider weaving its tangled web. Problem is, once I d made my own web big enough, I found I was no longer spider but prey, trapped by silvery threads of my own design.
I d spent the last year and a half-ever since the night I got loaded and slammed my car into a tree at sixty miles an hour-slowly untangling my own threads. Now, after two months of convalescence, nine months in a drug rehab facility, and two full semesters away at college, I was nearly free of all that-save for one big, fat lie that remained.
Nicole!
My head snapped left to see the setter knocking the volleyball into an easy arc over my head. Telling myself to focus, I bent my knees, waited for the exact right moment in its trajectory, and then shot up from the ground to slam the ball as hard as I could, spiking it straight through the upraised arms of our opponent and onto an empty space on the court behind her.
Set and game. Our victory, 3 to 2.
My team burst into cheers, jumping and hugging and laughing. When we finally calmed down, we lined up and did the high-five-and-thanks-for-a-good-game thing with the opposing team. Then we gathered for a quick huddle, mostly so our team captain could remind us, yet again, to stay in shape over the summer. Ours was just a local league in a small town in Virginia, but it was important to us.
Together now, she said, holding out a fist. We circled around and each placed a hand atop until all were in.
One . Play . At a time ! We shouted the team motto in unison, and then our huddle was done.
After some quick goodbyes and see-you-in-the-falls, I gathered my stuff and headed for the locker room, eager to grab a shower before all the stalls were taken. This was our last game of the semester, and though I was glad to be heading home to Richmond tomorrow, I knew I was going to miss this over summer break. The court was where I brought everything-happiness, sadness, anger, fear, elation, confusion, frustration-and it had proven to be an almost better outlet than my weekly on-campus counseling sessions. Which was saying a lot, considering what a great counselor I had.
Of course, my teammates were almost like counselors as well, or at least like savvy older sisters, I thought as I snagged a stall, set my little mesh bag of toiletries on the shelf, and turned on the water. We weren t just a sports team. We were a support group, former addicts and fellow students trying to make our way at a very conservative, totally non-partying university tucked away in the Shenandoah Mountains of western Virginia.
I d come to Silver Lake University specifically because it was a dry campus, even though initially I never would ve considered such a thing for fear I might stick out like a sore thumb. But then someone let me in on a secret back when I was fresh out of rehab and trying to choose the right college. My sister s boyfriend, Greg, was a certified addiction specialist, and he d told me about a small sobriety network that existed here, one endorsed by the administration and geared toward students who had gotten themselves into trouble in the past but had gone through treatment, sobered up, and sincerely wanted to stay that way.
I d been intrigued enough to check it out and found that he was right. Among the long-haired and long-skirted conservative student body of this all-female, drug-free, alcohol-free Christian university were a dozen or so freaky types like me who were clearly the opposite of conservative-or at least had been at some point in their lives.
My sister, Maddee, and I had taken a weekend trip to see the place, and the young woman who led our campus tour told us, straight out, that despite such differences in the student body, there wasn t much in the way of divisions or ostracism. According to the college s oft-quoted mission statement, the students here were all one in Christ and all worthy of acceptance, respect, and a positive, mutually supportive environment in which to learn.
I was skeptical but decided to give the place a shot anyway, and now that I d reached the end of my first full year, I had to say she d been pretty much on the mark. I d never felt anything but accepted and respected here, which in turn had made me a lot more open to the other side, to the kinds of girls I used to consider hopelessly naive, overprotected, and repressed.
I always figured kids like that were just time bombs waiting to go off, ready to turn wild the moment they were out from under their parents thumbs. Instead, with few exceptions, they d turned out to be intelligent, mature, thoughtful women who seemed perfectly happy with their theology and their life choices. They were actually comfortable wearing conservative dresses, dating only in groups, and saving their first kisses for their wedding days. And though I didn t hang with them often, I liked and respected them, something the old me would never have seen coming.
The locker room grew louder as more and more players got in line for the showers, so I finished up, quickly dried off, and wrapped myself in a towel. Then I made my way back to the locker, flip-flops slapping against the damp tile as I went.
My friend and spons