She is an avid blogger who has contributed to the Mount Hermon Blog, Christian Devotions blog, and writes a weekly devotional blog on the names of God. Read more at blossomturner.com.
Her authenticity comes from the crucible of suffering. Through understanding the restorative power of God’s forgiveness when humanity fails, she could write Anna’s Secret in a way that grips the reader on a profound level. A strong thread of hope is woven through this compelling novel where failure, love and romance collide.
Watch for Blossom’s next novel, Katherine’s Arrangement, a historical romance about an arranged marriage, set in the Shenandoah Valley—post-Civil War. The prologue and first chapter follow.
KATHERINE’S ARRANGEMENT
Shenandoah Brides Series Book One
Prologue
Civil War—October 1864, Rockingham County, Shenandoah Valley
“Katherine. They’re coming.” Pa swung his rifle over his shoulder and grimaced, the gun slipped to the floor. With jerky movements, he retrieved the weapon.
“Pa, your shoulder.”
Go, girl, and do exactly as we planned.”
Through the window, the smoke from the neighbor’s farm caught Katie’s eye—a cloud of ominous black splashed across the distant horizon. She glanced back. Her heart leapt into her throat as he fumbled with his rifle. She froze.
“Katherine!” Pa shouted. “Get moving. I’ll be on the porch.”
His shout broke her inaction, and she shot forward. She stumbled on the hem of her dress as she ran toward the kitchen. “Ma, we gotta go.”
Ma stuffed a pillow case with food. A loaf of bread fell through her trembling hands and tumbled to the floor. Katie’s sisters huddled close with wide eyes and tears streaming down their faces.
“Ma, come on.” Katie picked up three-year old Gracie, put an arm around her ma’s shoulders and steered them toward the door. Her other three sisters followed close behind.
Gracie squirmed, fighting to get down.
“Beckie. I need Beckie.” Gracie howled.
“There’s no time,” Ma said.
Katie thrust Gracie into her ma’s arms. “She carts that doll around constantly. If I don’t find it, she’ll keep screaming and that could be dangerous.”
Katie placed her hands on both sides of Gracie’s small round face and leaned in. “I’ll get your doll if you promise to obey Ma and do everything she says. Understand?”
Gracie whimpered. Her thumb went into her mouth.
“Ma, take the girls, I’ll find the doll.”
Katie raced from room to room. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard against fear. Where is that doll? God if you’re up there, please …
No sooner had she voiced that prayer than she spotted the arm of the doll poking out from underneath her sister’s small bed. She swooped it up.
The smoke in the distance had increased and billowed into a thick black cloud. Katie picked up her skirt and ran. The Yankees were closing in.
She headed for the hedge that lined a small section of the dusty drive. The boxwoods, her mother’s priced token of her childhood in Richmond, would serve them well today. A thick blackberry bramble sprawled directly behind preventing any rider from coming up from the rear.
Her Ma and sisters huddled in their makeshift shelter in the ground. Five sets of frightened eyes looked up at Katie as she approached.
She tossed the doll to Gracie and nodded to her ma. “I’m not leaving Pa alone,” she said, as she kneeled down and grasped the wood cover beside her.
“What about you?” fourteen-year-old Amelia cried out, her dark eyes saucer wide and brimming with tears.
“I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“But, Ma … stop her.” Amelia protested.
Ma looked away. Her silence spoke volumes.
The leaf and twig covered board wobbled in Katie’s hands as she pulled the cover into place. A quick glance back assured their hideaway looked like the surrounding area and the pipe buried for an air supply was carefully hidden in the brambles.
She moved further down the hedge away from the hiding spot and settled into the perfect ambush site. Laying low with her Springfield rifle held in one shaky hand, she nestled the ammunition close to her side. She felt for a small six-shot revolver pocketed in her dress, the one she’d removed from a dead Yankee earlier that year. The cold from the metal bit into her fingers as she pulled the gun free, but the steel was not as cold as her heart. Those Yankees had killed her two brothers. A surge of hatred flared.
Her heart pounded so loud she feared it was audible. With a deep breath slowly in and out, she worked to calm the thumping. The revolver lay loaded and ready as a backup. Katie fit the rifle onto her shoulder and shifted to find comfort on the uneven ground.
Her teeth clenched tight as her mind darted in and out of the past few years. The fear of mean-spirited soldiers and deserters roaming the valley had kept her tense and alert. She stayed close to home and kept her gun at her side when tending the animals. Her pa had warned the war would get uglier before it was over. He was right.
Their beautiful valley had been hit hard with battle after battle, and the Yankees repeatedly confiscated whatever they wanted. But this was different. Homes had previously been spared but not today.
Sheridan’s troops were systematically eliminating the Shenandoah Valley as a source of grain and livestock for General Lee’s army—one field and one house at a time. The neighbor’s place, devoured by flames, now looked like a beast from hell had feasted.
Her vision blurred, and she brushed away tears with an angry swipe.
She tensed as she spied movement on the road. Her adrenaline spiked as she peered through the sight on her gun. A Yankee. The soldier boldly turned into the drive. Hatred washed hot, and then she froze. The young officer reminded her of her twin brothers—the same wispy hair, angular cheek bones, and deep-set eyes. The urge to
