Wild Rose

Laurel June Thompson

Description

The McAlister family story continues with Wild Rose, a sequel to Born for Adversity. McAlister Grange comes to life once more when Rose McAlister, a successful equine veterinarian in Southeastern Pennsylvania, makes a surprising discovery, awakening a new desire to delve into her past through a secret, hidden journal penned by her ancestor over a century before. Wild Rose explores Rose’s journey through the past, while taking some startling and sometimes dangerous turns in her present and future as well. Romance, adventure, heartbreak, sacrifice, and even a mysterious crossover into the Otherworld make for a dynamic and thrilling read, all leading to an epiphany of faith and understanding of what family truly means.
Peek around the corner of time to reach into the lives of generations past, finding that those who have gone before are so much more than a dash between two dates on a gravestone. See how each generation helps to shape the next, both for good and ill, by every decision made, no matter how insignificant a choice it may seem at the time.
Decide if fate or free will is the driving force in life, carving one’s family tree through the centuries into a thriving, towering elm or a stump of deadwood, only good for the fire. See how the families McAlister, O’Donnell, Riley, Campbell, DuBois, Reardon, and Livingston interact and intertwine to culminate in a God-ordained destiny for those who choose to follow His leading—for if one is open to divine guidance, there will be signs; only seek, and ye shall find.

Sujets

• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 février 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781664111301
• Langue: English

Extrait

Wild Rose
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
Laurel June Thompson
Cover art by Chelsea L. Walker
 
Copyright © 2021 by Laurel June Thompson.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6641-1131-8

eBook
978-1-6641-1130-1
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
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.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 02/22/2023
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
835356
 
I dedicate this book to my ancestors and my descendants, even the children of my line not yet born. Related by love, by blood, by chance, or by choice, we are one family, tied together throughout the millennia, unbroken.
Contents
Chapter 1       The Discovery
Chapter 2       The Partnership
Chapter 3       The Pioneers
Chapter 4       The Fiancé
Chapter 5       The New Year
Chapter 6       The Irish Rose
Chapter 7       The Basilica
Chapter 8       Cock-a-leeky Stew
Chapter 9       The Betrayal
Chapter 10     The Shock
Chapter 11     The Bleak Midwinter
Chapter 12     Bygone Tales
Chapter 13     The Rendezvous
Chapter 14     The Vacation
Chapter 15     The Aftermath
Chapter 16     The Warning
Chapter 17     The Gypsy
Chapter 18     Best-laid Plans
Chapter 19     Deep Water
Chapter 20     The Prediction
Chapter 21     The Reef
Chapter 22     The Scheme
Chapter 23     Resolute
Chapter 24     The Mambo
Chapter 25     Reversal of Fortunes
Chapter 26     The Vision
Chapter 27     Spirals
Chapter 28     Absolution
Chapter 29     Star-crossed
Chapter 30     The Law of Threes
Chapter 31     The Reardons
Chapter 32     The Heirloom
Chapter 33     The Conundrum
Chapter 34     The Windfall
Chapter 35     Soul Mates
Chapter 36     Revelation
Chapter 37     Kismet
Chapter 38     Chance of a Lifetime
Chapter 1
The Discovery
S OME TREES SEEM to be aware, even sentient. Ancient roots draw life and memory from their telluric foundation, branches whispering secrets to the soughing breeze. Silent witnesses to generations past, ever vigilant, ever watchful. So it was with the great elm standing guard over McAlister Grange for more than a hundred years.

Rose McAlister stood upon the large, wraparound front porch of the main house, elbows braced upon the white painted railing, staring at the barren elm presiding over the grange like a sagacious, sylvan lord—a leafless scrim against the indigo twilit sky.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic.
Rose silently pondered the stanza conjured from the image of the elm, remembering the famous Longfellow verse she had memorized in third grade for the school poetry contest. “Tell me your secrets.” Rose realized she had actually spoken aloud and furtively glanced about to make sure no one had heard.
Her father’s daughter, Rose usually lived in the here and now; practicality and reason ruled her heart and mind. But today her thoughts remained pensive and distant, even fanciful. She gazed upon the huge elm, naked limbs reaching heavenward as if in supplication, so tall and majestic even without its leafy garb. Rose couldn’t help but reflect upon something Granddad Ephraim had told her mother, Lily, years ago before her parents were married:
Lily, my dear, that tree was planted by my grandmother, Rose McAlister, before the turn of the century. She and my grandfather settled this land. Together they cleared the trees, plowed the fields, built the house, and planted that elm sapling in the dooryard to watch over and protect the grange for generations to come. Like many old-world Scots, Granny Rose was something of a mystic, unlike her staid and devout husband, Colin. She maintained the elm would repel evil spirits and likewise ensure healthy offspring, crops, and livestock.
Rose recalled her mother relaying this bit of dubious tree lore while pushing her on the rope and plank swing hanging from one of the elm’s lofty boughs when she had been only six or seven. The swing was long gone, like many others before it. Still, she could almost see it hanging from the thick branch and hear the creak of the ropes as it swayed back and forth in the winter breeze, a ghostly image playing tricks upon her mind.
“There you are; I’ve been looking for you.” Rose’s fiancé, Richard, sidled up next to her, startling her attention from the esoteric musings. He handed her a cup of orange pekoe tea, steam rising from the mug like a miniature wraith. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Richard asked, taking off his jacket and wrapping it securely about Rose’s shoulders.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about all the people who’ve lived here before us. Did you know Mom was married both times under that tree?”
“Um, no. I didn’t,” Richard responded, unsure where she was headed.
“I want us to be married there too, like my parents. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure, of course. Whatever you want, babe,” Richard assured her, happy to agree to anything regarding the wedding.
“Thank you, Richard. I love you.”
“Yeah, love you too. Now let’s go inside where it’s warm. I have to leave tomorrow morning to tend to some end of the year business, but I’m really glad we got to spend Christmas together with your family.”
“Me too.” With a parting glance at the giant elm, its formidable silhouette dissolving into the velvet backdrop of the gathering night, Rose let herself be towed into the house where her mother was handing out slices of pumpkin pie. The spacious living room was aglow with holiday candles and shimmering lights from the Nordic Spruce spangled with ornaments and tinsel, ribbons and colored paper strewn beneath from that morning’s gift opening bacchanalia. Children’s laughter punctuated the adults’ more sedate conversations and Rose’s spirit lightened. She joined the family celebration, galvanizing the festive scene into her memory before it, too, became a part of the eternal past.

A successful equine veterinarian in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Rose had met and become engaged to Richard Thornton Junior, heir to Thornton Downs, a breeding farm of Thoroughbred racing stock. As often as possible, Rose drove the short distance to her ancestral home of McAlister Grange along the banks of the Susquehanna River where she had grown up and where her mother, Lily, and stepfather, Jesse, still resided. McAlister Grange remained one of Pennsylvania’s few family dairies still thriving in the twenty-first century. Largely owing to Jesse’s commitment to maintaining cutting edge equipment, state of the art facilities, a crack dairy staff, and only allowing prime Holstein milkers on the production line, McAlister Grange rivaled the larger, corporate-owned dairies in efficiency and profit. Moreover, the grange had a reputation for quality products and fair dealing, making Jesse the go-to supplier for many of the state’s grocery chains and restaurants.
Formerly a gifted high school history teacher, Jesse McAlister found he likewise retained the knack of training new stockmen quickly and thoroughly, a duty he gladly inherited from the previous head stockman, Charlie, who had recently retired and moved to Virginia Beach. Jesse’s son, Jack, had returned to the grange for good after achieving his master’s degree from Cornell University in agricultural development. Jack resided in the cottage located on the northern edge of McAlister Grange’s three hundred and forty acres, where he and his father had once lived before Jesse married Lily some five years before. Jesse, at fifty-two years of age, was relieved to make Jack a grange partner, happily surrendering the lion’s share of the farm’s administration to him. With Jack living on the premises, Jesse could devote more time to the hands-on training he loved, teaching the greenhorns and honing the skills of the already expert team of dairymen and farmhands working the grange at peak efficiency.
Though regularly checked by his cardiologist, Jesse had so far manifested none of the telltale signs of the heart disease that had killed his father and brother while they were still in their forties. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, or HCM, could be passed genetically, and the characteristic thickening of the heart muscle usually signaled the victim’s early demise. Jesse, however, seemed to have escaped this fate, unlike his beloved elder brother Jackson—Lily’s first husband and Rose and Violet’s father.
Lily was still lovely at fifty, her once flowing mane of fiery red hair recently cut into a very becoming shoulder-length style. She’d been thrilled with the thought of her daughter’s wedding being held at the grange, just the same as both of Lily’s nuptials, first to Jackson, then to Jesse. Rose’s younger sister Violet had eloped seven years before when