The Passage

Kelly Z. Conrad

Description

The Passage, sequel to the award-winning historical romance Shaman, continues the love story of Matt Tyler and Degan, the Seneca woman whose life he saved.
The sequel to the award-winning,
historical romance novel Shaman is here: The Passage
Picking up the story where Shaman ended, The Passage continues the saga of Dr. Matt Tyler and Degan, the Seneca woman whose life he saved.
In the spring of 1869, Dr. Matt Tyler has returned to his home in Washington from the Allegheny Reservation with Degan and their young son, Adam, to begin their life together as a family. But Matt soon discovers a long-held family secret that upends his world and threatens the Tyler family legacy.
As Degan tries to adjust to her new life in the affluent surroundings of the well-to-do of the Victorian Era, her bond with Matt is tested again and again through struggle and unspeakable tragedy.
In rich detail from new settings across the globe, new characters — as well as familiar and beloved characters from Shaman — all play against the backdrop of the epic love story of Matt and Degan.
From Washington, the seat of power in America, to the wealthy neighborhoods of London, to the tropical shores of Cape Palmas in West Africa, The Passage continues the poignant and inspiring story of great love that transcends cultural differences and intolerance.

Sujets

• Historical
• Iroqués
• Chamán
• 19th century
• Family secret
• Sequel
• Shamanism
• Suite d'une ?uvre
• Society
• Seneca
• Romance
• Shaman
• Iroquois
• Fiction
• London
• Washington

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 31 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663244673
• Langue: English

Extrait

Also by Kelly Z. Conrad
Shaman
7 p.m. (and other essays)
The Passage
SEQUEL TO THE AWARD-WINNING HISTORICAL ROMANCE SHAMAN
KELLY Z. CONRAD


THE PASSAGE
 
Copyright © 2022 Kelly Z. Conrad.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4466-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4467-3 (e)
 
 
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 08/29/2022
CONTENTS
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part Two
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Part Three
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
 
Acknowledgements and other Notes

For Marcus
“You live very deep in my heart.”
Part One
CHAPTER 1
May 1869 Washington
S teppin g down from his carriage at the perimeter of the cemetery, Matt Tyler caught sight of a woman he did not recognize standing beside his father’s grave. Slight of build, she was dressed in a plain gray frock with a black shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. She stood very still, hands folded, head bowed as if in prayer. He noticed she wore no bonnet, unusual for any woman outside this time of the morning. From a distance he couldn’t tell if her hair was blond or gray, but it was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.
She seemed unaware of his presence as he approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her meditation. He waited until she raised her head and opened her eyes. She took a quick breath when she saw him standing a few paces from her.
He touched the brim of his hat. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’m sorry if I startled you. Matthew Tyler.”
Her expression changed to surprised recognition. “I’m Mrs. Olivia Phillips. You’re Dr. Tyler’s son.”
“Yes.” Matt took note of the certainty in her tone. His mind raced to find a polite way to question who she was and why she appeared to be praying over his father’s grave.
A gentle smile settled on her mouth and her eyes grew moist.
“Do you visit my father’s grave often?”
“Oh. Well, I—”
“I don’t mean to intrude or appear forward. It’s just that... I don’t believe we’ve met before. If I may ask, how did you know my father?”
Though the late May sun was warm, her skirt fluttered with the breeze and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I was a patient of his. For many years.”
“I see.” He glanced quickly around but saw only his own carriage parked along the roadside. “May I offer you a ride somewhere?”
Her eyes swept nervously from Matt to his carriage and back, as though she were trying to decide if she should accept his offer.
With a slight bow, he smiled. “I can assure you, you will be quite safe with me.”
Her face relaxed. “That’s very kind of you. Please,” she waved a hand toward the gravesite and backed away. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you by your carriage.”
“Thank you.” Touching his hat again, he watched as she turned toward the road, then knelt beside the patch of grass under which his father had been laid to rest more than two years before.
When would reality ever set in? He still expected to look up and see his father standing there, eager to hear the latest news of his medical practice and his young family. The elder Dr. Tyler had been endlessly interested in his children’s lives, offering reassurance or empathy, as needed. In the past two years, Matt had learned to rely for comfort and guidance only on his memories of his father.
He moved his fingers across his father’s full name etched in the headstone, his eyes resting on the date of death. He’d never gotten the chance to tell his father about Degan, the Seneca woman he’d discovered in his barn one cold January night more than two years ago. How she’d been gravely injured and through his efforts, had recovered, and was now the woman he knew he would love for the rest of his life. His father had never met their son, his namesake and first grandchild, would never offer words of advice or encouragement to the boy as he grew to face the challenges of manhood. Matt contemplated how much more difficult it would be to raise his son without his father’s presence in their lives, without his strong character, his experience, even his sense of humor that so often put everything into proper perspective.
“Trust your instincts, Matthew,” his father’s voice echoed in his head.
“I miss you, Father,” he whispered, swallowing hard against the lump of raw emotion in his throat.
A while later at the roadside, Matt offered Mrs. Phillips his hand to assist her into the carriage. Settling comfortably on the padded seat, she smoothed her skirt and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
Beside her, Matt picked up the reins. “Now, where may I take you?” He clicked at the horse and the carriage lurched forward.
“I don’t live far from here, Dr. Tyler.”
He looked at her with surprise. “How did you know I’m a doctor?”
“Oh, your father told me. He was very proud of you.”
He smiled. “It’s kind of you to say so.”
“So like your father,” she murmured.
He looked at her curiously, more for the wistful tone of her voice than for the words she’d spoken. He tried to recall any mention of a Mrs. Phillips by his father or mother over the years. She did not appear as someone who would have socialized within his parents’ circle of friends, either in her dress or her demeanor. She seems too unpretentious . He made a mental note to ask Daisy later if she knew anything about a Mrs. Phillips.
“When I arrived at Father’s gravesite this morning, there was a woman there,” Matt told Daisy that afternoon as they sat in her small office just off the kitchen at Tyler Mansion. The chief domestic in the household for many years, and surrogate mother to both Matt and his sister Caroline, Daisy had been planning the menus for his sister’s upcoming wedding breakfast to be held in the home in less than a week.
“Anyone we know?” she asked, making notes on her pad in delicate script.
“A Mrs. Olivia Phillips.”
Her head snapped up and she looked wide-eyed at Matt before quickly dropping her gaze again.
“You know this woman.”
She studied her notes. “I’ve heard her name.”
Matt leaned toward her. “Who is she?”
“Matthew, please,” she whispered, “some things are best left … undisturbed.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? Just tell me who she is and how you know her.”
Daisy sighed. “I should not be the one to tell you of this.”
“Well, who should? Mother?”
He was startled to see genuine alarm on her face. “Never mention to your mother that you’ve met this woman!”
“Why?”
She placed her fountain pen on the pad. Remaining silent, she put her hands to her forehead and closed her eyes, as though trying to decide the best way to address his curiosity. He waited patiently, noticing her gray hair, and her hands, wrinkled and gnarled from years of service to his family.
Slowly, she rose and went to peek out into the deserted kitchen, then closed the door. “Do you remember the first time you were telling your mother about Miss Degan?” She settled again at her desk. “It was here at the mansion, after you brought her back here to Washington from the reservation. And Miss Kathleen told you there had been a woman, a patient of Dr. Tyler’s, who had… misinterpreted his intentions.”
Matt searched his brain for a moment, then a vague memory dawned. “Yes, I remember her saying this woman had been a victim of her husband’s violence and had come to Father for treatment. That she had misinterpreted his medical care for affection? And the matter took some time to clear up. It was this woman? This Mrs. Phillips was the one who…?”
“Yes,” Daisy said.
“But… she must have been quite young at the time.”
“She was young. Just married and very unhappy. At her father’s insistence, the poor girl married a dangerous man she did not know. Dr. Tyler was kind to her. Perhaps she saw him as a father figure at first, I don’t know.”
“There’s obviously a lingering affection there, for her to be visiting Father’s grave after all this time.”
“Yes, there must be,” Daisy said matter-of-factly, as if hoping the subject would now be dropped. She picked up her pen and resumed her work, but Matt sensed there was more to the story.
“Daisy?” Her refusal to look at him confirmed his assumption. “There’s more to this than you’re telling me, isn’t there?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I know you.”
She looked up, determination in her tone. “Matthew