Gate To Nowhere

( 10 )

Overview

Free-lance artist Emma Franklin inherits a farm in MacKinlay, North Carolina and stumbles upon a mystery involving the town's namesake, a man despised and scorned by everyone she meets. Determined to unravel the puzzle, she steps through an old rusty gate in front of her farmhouse and is suddenly thrust 177 years into the past.
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Gate to Nowhere

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Overview

Free-lance artist Emma Franklin inherits a farm in MacKinlay, North Carolina and stumbles upon a mystery involving the town's namesake, a man despised and scorned by everyone she meets. Determined to unravel the puzzle, she steps through an old rusty gate in front of her farmhouse and is suddenly thrust 177 years into the past.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781933353012
  • Publisher: Paladin Timeless Books
  • Publication date: 4/15/2008
  • Pages: 228
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.52 (d)

Read an Excerpt

The hillsides were covered with blossoming trees and that light green seen only in spring. And the air was so fresh and invigorating. So unlike the urban sprawl and smog-filled skies of Atlanta. A girl could get used to this in no time. The thought brought a smile. There, the second apple-farm in a row, all in bloom, and ahead, another of those bronze signs with historical information. Time to slow down again. Some of them were interesting.

This one was more than interesting. It was intriguing:

Half-Way Tree: (a.k.a Hanging Tree) named by Cherokee
Indians as the mid-point between the Asheville trading post
and the settlement of Nowhere. Early settlers knew it as the
Hanging Tree; referring to its leafy boughs as
"half-way between Heaven and Hell."

The sign gave no mention of the tree's location, although such signs were usually posted fairly near the site of interest. She'd have to ask someone in town where it was. If the tree were picturesque, she might use it as the subject of a painting. The prospect of discussing such things with her new neighbors was exciting.

MacKinlay, the town named after her ancestors, was five miles ahead--a matter of a few minutes. What would it be like? All she'd been told was that it was a typical small town. Typical of what, and to whom? People like Anthony who lived in Atlanta?

But half a dozen minutes later she'd have echoed the word "typical." MacKinlay was charming and small, with antique shops and quaint restaurants, a florist shop, the typical hardware store displaying gardening supplies in the window. And there, next to a NormanRockwell-type barber shop with the red-and-white striped pole by the door, a drug store, complete with a bench out front for old men to sit, whittle and gossip.

Everywhere she looked there were window boxes brimming with the riotous color-of-spring blossoms. The only things missing were horses. Somehow, cars seemed out of place on the streets, which should have been dirt, not asphalt.

It was the real-life version of fictional Mayberry, USA. Where were Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife? The thought brought a smile.

She drove completely through the main section, going around the town square twice. Picnic tables were sprinkled there, along with a small playground, a gazebo, and fountains. And in the center, standing proudly, was a statue. Statues usually represented one of the town's revered heroes. Who would this little town have for their hero? She had to see.

She swerved impulsively into an empty parking spot. No one was there in the square; no children playing in the playground, no adults feeding the squirrels that scampered across her path, unnoticed. No one sat in the gazebo; no one admired the fountains or sat at the picnic benches even though the morning was glorious.

It seemed somehow strange, but then maybe that was how small towns functioned. Perhaps people came out only on Sundays, or maybe all the kids were in school. At least there were people on the sidewalks. At least the town had sidewalks!

The massive bronze sculpture was at once so mesmerizing that everything else in the square became a blur, merging into a long tunnel with the statue at the end, bathed in light. Something was pulling her forward, or was that a gentle shove from behind? Either way, the sensation was dreamlike. Was she actually walking? It was more like floating.

Then suddenly a bronze giant was staring down at her, looking almost as if he were waiting for her to come up and shake his hand. Time stood still.

Her eyes dropped to the plaque.

Presented in Appreciation to
Our Town's Namesake--
Gavin Douglas MacKinlay
May 15, 1827

So this was Gavin MacKinlay. If one generation were taken as twenty years, that would make him G-Jane's--she counted on her fingers--great-grandfather, which made him her great-great-great-grandfather. Was that right? Well, give or take another "great." Wouldn't it be something if any kind of resemblance remained after all those years?

She moved to one side and studied the bronze head, but there was nothing significant in the profile. Maybe the other side? No, that was the same as ... Wait! The chin and jaw-line ... were they? Yes, they were the same as G-Jane's! If she squinted a bit, she could almost place her grandmother's profile against Gavin MacKinlay's and that portion would be a perfect match.

And I resemble G-Jane the same way she resembles him.

It had always been referred to as the "that Thomas chin." Sam had teased her about it, said he could always tell when she was ticked off about something because it jutted out when her teeth were clenched. She had inherited it from her dad who had gotten it from his mother, G-Jane.

They'd all thought it began with Jane, but it must have been dominant trait a whole century earlier. No longer the Thomas chin; it belonged to the MacKinlay name. It was the MacKinlay chin, and she owned it.

* * * *

What am I doing back in the Jeep? And how did I get here? Are those women staring at me? Oh no! Did I do something weird back there at Gavin's statue?

Like remembering a dream upon waking, her efforts to recall were futile. She yanked her hands away from the steering wheel and reconstructed her steps one at a time, but faltered about the time she'd approached the statue. The rest was a blank. Almost certainly people on the sidewalk had been looking at her, but now they pretended to ignore her. Somehow she'd returned to the Jeep, but it was all a complete fog. The engine was running, but she couldn't even remember starting it. How long had she been sitting there? That, too, was impossible to know.

Oh, well, there was still a lot of the town to see, and then she'd buy groceries. On second thought, both activities would have to wait. First she needed gas; the low fuel light was on. She'd passed a gas station earlier, just a few streets away. For now it would do.

The station belonged to another time. It was an old, shingled building, added onto over the years--obvious from the hodge-podge architectural style. The advertisement, encouraging her to "See Chimney Rock" was painted along one side. No canopy shaded the two pumps, which looked rather like twin soldiers standing at attention in the sunlight. Neither was being used, and except for a single car parked near the front door, the place looked like it was closed. The mechanic's bay was empty.

She pulled up to a pump, her tires causing a bell to ring somewhere inside. Ding-ding. Ding-ding. A real "service" station still in operation? She hadn't known they still existed. After a few minutes, it was apparent that the bell had just never been disconnected; no one was coming to fill her tank. Hmmm ... no credit card slot. A small sign above the pumps said "Pay Inside." Good. The attendant might be an old timer who knew the whole area. It would be a great start.

While her tank was filling, she gazed in every direction, mentally framing different scenes she'd like to paint. She'd do a whole series of MacKinlay prints. Her agent would love it. Certainly the statue, perhaps an upward shot against the sky. She might even set up her easel and paint it there in the square. That would get her some new acquaintances. People always stopped what they were doing to peer over an artist's shoulder while the work was in progress.

She hurried in to pay for the gas. The aisles inside were so close, she had to squeeze by a man in coveralls, picking out a pack of gum. The magazine rack was half empty, and most of the things on the shelves were items a person would need every century or so: safety pins, eyeglass repair kits, duct tape, assortments of screws and nails, purse-sized tissues, toenail clippers. She didn't bother with the rest.

The tiny checkout counter, dominated by racks of cigarettes and tobacco, was literally blocked from view by the man in the coveralls who was in the middle of telling a story, and seemed to have all the time in the world. When he finished, the station operator handed him back his credit card and launched into one of his own childhood remembrances in excruciating detail, while the smiling patron kept saying, "Yup, yup." Maybe he'd heard this story before? She found the waiting tedious, but at least people in the town loved to talk. It was a good sign.

Finally it was her turn.

"Hi--Emma Franklin," she offered her hand. "Jane MacKinlay Thomas was my grandmother. I'll bet you've heard of her. I just moved into her house yesterday, and I need to find a grocery store. Oh, and I need some poison ivy sprayed. Would you know anyone who could do that for me?"

"Thutty dollars, twenty-seven cents."

"Excuse me?"

"That your Jeep over there at my pump?"

"Why, yes I...."

"Thutty dollars, twenty-seven cents." He picked up a cardboard box and began opening it, not quite glancing at her. Was he trying to ignore her? She swallowed, dropping her hand. "I ... did I ... oh, of course. Here you are." She held out her credit card.

"Cash," was his reply.

"But you just took that man's.... "His scowl stopped her. "Okay, then here's thirty-one dollars. Now can you tell me where there's a grocery store? Please?"

"Sixty-three cents is your change." He slapped the coins down on the worn counter instead of handing them to her; then glanced back toward the garage portion as if he'd just heard something. "Comin'!" he bellowed over his shoulder.

There's no one there. That bay was empty! "But.... "She stopped. He'd already turned away. It should have been seventy-three cents, but she was almost afraid to correct him.

"Gotta go ... business." He turned abruptly and shuffled through the door to the back. A moment later she heard the bay door being lowered.

Too late, buster. I saw your empty bay. Clearly she'd done or said something to offend the man, but what? He'd been all smiles while telling his story to that man, even joking with him, then suddenly turned on her like she was some sort of tramp. He hadn't even looked at her directly, not once. No doubt he was waiting for her to leave, maybe even watching her. She didn't dare look to see. Maybe it was the man's personal problem; maybe he was just uncomfortable talking to women. Some men were like that, and she was fairly attractive. Maybe if he'd been younger....

At any rate, it was far too nice a day to let one little incident spoil her mood. She'd ask someone else directions to the store, or else just drive around until she found it.

There! Two middle-aged women across the narrow street were looking her way, almost as if they were examining her. She waved and wore her best smile. They were probably curious about the new face in their little town. If they waited, she'd have time to swing the Jeep around, drop the window, and introduce herself. She started the engine and glanced again in their direction, hoping they had read her intentions. But they'd already spun on their heels and started off in the opposite direction, jabbering. One was shaking her head. What was going on? Was it her Jeep? Were these people mistaking her for someone else, maybe someone with the same kind of car? Wouldn't that be something? Of course, she'd be able to correct that, once a few townspeople knew who she really was, and yet she'd mentioned her name inside the gas station, and it produced the same kind of reaction.

Besides, those two women didn't know her name. Wait, maybe there was a woman named Franklin, and ... but no. Pooh! A sour note, the first of what had so far been a glorious day, but now it was behind her. The gas station and the two women had already disappeared from her rear view mirror, and she was on her way again. Her smile was back; she checked in the mirror to be sure. She turned left past the post office and the First Baptist Church, and there it was: MacKinlay Grocery. Imagine the looks she'd get when she pushed two fully loaded shopping carts up to the checkout counter. That's how much she'd need to fill the pantry and stock all the kitchen shelves. Plus all the bathroom things, and cleansers.

It might even take three carts.

"Oh, you're Jane Thomas's granddaughter? Yes, we were all so sorry to hear about Jane.... "She could hear them now, all the usual comments, along with the typical invitations to join this church or that, or to drop in at some social event.

She pulled into the parking lot, careful to park with the back of the Jeep toward the store entrance. That would make things easier. There was no one in the parking lot. Even so, she felt prickly, as if someone were staring at her. She slowed her steps and looked quickly around, but there was nothing. Who'd be staring at her anyway?

Look at you, Emma. You're just jumpy because you're excited; you're eager. So you were a little disappointed at the gas station guy and those two women, but you're still on an anxiety kick and you won't lose it until you meet a few people. Give yourself time. It's a small town, with small town people. It won't take you long to make friends

She could practically hear Sam urging her to get out, join all sorts of groups. She squared her shoulders. "Look at me, Sam. I'm doing it." Yet she glanced one more time at the half-dozen cars in the parking lot before going inside. That feeling was still there.

The store was mid-size, but ample enough. Her first cart was half filled in no time, but the more she smiled and greeted others, the more they ignored her. At least ten people were shopping, but not one of them would make eye contact with her. Twice she asked where to find this or that, and got no more than shrugs. Not a single word. Worse, with each person she passed, she got the creepy feeling they'd turned and were staring at her. She didn't dare twist around to check, but the sensation actually made her skin crawl.

What was there about her that these people all sensed? Did she look like someone else? Did they think they were seeing a ghost, or something like it? Surely no one in the store was aware of the two women back there at the gas station, but the reactions were the same. In fact, everything about MacKinlay had been weird so far, starting with Gavin MacKinlay's statue. What was it about this town? She wanted to ask, but people seemed to evaporate before her eyes. They were avoiding her.

Well, one cart full would have to do until she got to the bottom of whatever it was. She flung a couple of frozen pizzas on top of her pile and wheeled up to the check out counter, where a young cashier was chatting away with a customer. Excellent! She'd be just the person to explain the strange reactions coming from the townspeople. It wouldn't hurt to listen in, either. It was just gossip, but you never could tell. Maybe the whole town was on edge about something, which could explain all the sullen attitudes.

It wouldn't do to have either woman catch her staring, or listening for that matter. She parked her shopping cart a comfortable distance back and began browsing the book and magazine rack facing the register aisle. The topics and titles were typical, but she wasn't really reading them. They were just a distraction. The covers on some of the romance novels reminded her of the old adage about putting cheap chocolates in the elaborate box, expensive ones in the plain box. If that rule applied, most of the books she'd seen in racks like this one wouldn't be worth the time it would take to read them.

Whoa! What's that? She whipped back to a cover she'd skipped without a second thought. The grainy black-and-white photo was her house! She grabbed a copy and quickly stuffed it into her cart, not even looking at the title, just as the woman ahead of her moved away. Finally! They'd been talking for five whole minutes. She took a deep breath, feeling almost like she was about to walk onstage in a high school play. Her smile was one of her best. Surely it would work here.

It didn't.

The cashier completely ignored her, choosing that moment to open the cash drawer and riffle through some papers under the tray. She seemed irritated, when moments before she'd been all smiles. Finally she put the cash tray back in place and closed the drawer. Now was the moment.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

She began moving items from her cart to the counter, but there was no response. Nothing. The girl seemed to be looking down one of the aisles, as if searching for someone.

"I'm Emma Franklin--just moved into the old MacKinlay place." That didn't work either. Her counter pile kept growing. There had to be something she could say to evoke some sort of reply. Finally the girl reached for the first item and ran it across the scanner.

Beep.

"I wonder--would you happen to know anyone who could teach me about farm animals? Chickens, goats, sheep ... like that? I don't mean big animals, just smaller ones. My grandmother--you probably heard of her--Jane Thomas? Jane MacKinlay Thomas? I don't know how often she got into town, but the property has a barn and there were animals there once, and I just thought...."

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

"What is going on here? Has this whole town taken an oath of silence against me?" The words came tumbling out before she could stop herself, and her nervous little laugh only made things worse. She bit her upper lip and almost looked away, but the cashier suddenly raised her head and smiled. At last! Maybe the direct approach was the way to go.

"You see, I haven't been able to.... "Wrong again! The girl wasn't smiling at her, but at the woman next in line.

"Well, good morning, Mrs. Johnson, and just how are you today? Isn't this the nicest weather we're havin'? And how are those grandbabies of yours? Growin' like weeds, I bet."

She barely stopped long enough for the woman to start a reply, before she was rattling on non-stop. "Oh, I know what I wanted to ask you. My mama said for me to ask you for your recipe for cauliflower casserole next time I saw you. You know my mama just loves anythin' with cauliflower in it."

Beep.

"But she says your casserole is the best she's ever put in her mouth. She hopes that it ain't some secret family recipe or somethin' like that. Is it?"

Beep. Beep. Mrs. Johnson was either nodding her answers or simply unable to get a word in edgewise.

"Well, good. Maybe you could jot it down for me to take to her while you're waitin' in line. Yes, ma'am. I've got a pad right here...."

It was amazing, all of it! They were talking around her as if she weren't even there. No eye contact, no acknowledgement, no answers to her questions. Even the beeps had stopped while the conversation shifted to other topics. A church bazaar, the next rummage sale, Leona Phillip's son's troubles in school.

There was nothing to do but stand there and fume in silence. She glanced at the book she'd snatched from the rack: From Nowhere to MacKinlay--A History of MacKinlay, North Carolina.

It was time for a little afternoon reading. I'll get to the bottom of this yet!

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Customer Reviews

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( 10 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 10 Customer Reviews
  • Posted April 14, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Do the ghosts of the past really ever go away?

    Emma Franklin has inherited her grandmother's house and all the memories and heartache that go with it. She wants to start again and rebuild her life but is this town of Nowhere the right place. Getting set up was easy and clearing out the attic was an adventure from the past with old clothes and mementos of another time and place, one Emma almost thought she belonged in.

    The one stumbling block to this new life is the obsession she has with a gate that won't budge in her backyard. Emma find herself the gate open one sleepless night as she wanders her backyard and seems almost compelled to walk through it. After walking through she then finds herself meeting Gavin MacKinlay the owner of the property in the early 1800's. The adventure after that is even more amazing than traveling back in time.

    History books had not been kind to Gavin but everything that Emma sees, hears and discovers about him are a complete contradiction to what is written. The town seems to love him, the women want to marry him and his land is prospering. What or who happened that ruined all this good work?

    Emma meets the woman who wants to marry Gavin despite his lack of interest and she begins to wonder if this woman could have turned everything positive to negative. Yet Emma senses some other force at work behind all these bad deeds and plans to rewrite history so that the real Gavin is revealed and his name restored. But when Emma tells Gavin where she came from will he believe her or just think she was hit on the head and not thinking correctly. Emma has to decide if this is the life she wants with Gavin or to live in the present alone and without him. Going back to the past has many disadvantages but the one draw is love and a future to be built with a man she loves.

    This book could be considered in a number of categories but I like to think of it as historical romance. The characters are full of life and Ms. Sain brings them to life on each page. This is not as much about time travel as it is two people finding each other and solving a mystery while perhaps uncovering a mystery or two.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 9, 2011

    Superb reading! Couldn't put it down!

    I thoroughly enjoyed this action-packed, time travel novel! The suspense kept me going and I couldn't put it down. Very creative and descriptive writing made it a joy to read. LOVED it and I can't wait to get started on the next one in this series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 3, 2008

    This is an action-packed time travel romance

    In MacKinlay, North Carolina, thirty-four years old widow Emma Franklin follows the specific underlined directions of attorney Anthony Clark provided her to her late grandmother¿s Golden Apple farm. However the obvious oval sign that he claimed she would see at four and seven-tenth miles is not there or anything remotely matching the photos she has with her. She parks her jeep to look around only to realize why she missed the opening. Thinking of her father¿s warning rhyme of ¿leaves of three let them be¿ she realizes poison ivy blocks the way into the farm she just inherited.------------- Emma finds a safe way through the vines before returning to MacKinlay to buy food and other necessities. No one seems to welcome her in fact they are outright angry and hostile towards her. She returns to her new home stunned and begins a search of the house and the garden with its shut rusted gate. In a secret panel she discovers three journals from the 1820s in which she learns Gavin MacKinlay, who the town is named after, built her new home in the early nineteenth century and was obviously cherished and loved until a tragedy not explained happened and the entries abruptly stop. Outside the rusted gate has somehow opened up. Curious to where the gate leads, she will soon learn who loves Gavin and why the Indians called this area ¿Nowhere¿.-------------- This is an action-packed time travel romance starring a wonderful somewhat bewildered heroine and a courageous hunk. The story line is fast-paced from the moment Emma struggles to find the signpost and never slows down until the final confrontation. Although the lead couple reacts to everything thrown their way too easily, fans will want to walk through the GATE TO NOWHERE to watch Emma¿s amazing adventure.------------- Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 3, 2008

    Time travel and romance

    I thoroughly enjoyed Ms.Sain's book. She doesn't write like a first time author! Her knowledge of history and the pictures she paints are excellent. I'd recommend this book, and am looking forward to reading the next!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 6, 2008

    Suspenseful

    This author grabbed my attention from page one. Suspense, mystery, and intrigue are all there. This is a hard book to put down. I'm already looking for the next one. There must be a sequel coming.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 2, 2008

    Couldn't put it down!

    The title captured me! Then I learned that Nowhere is a place in time and the journey backward began! I found the narrative like sitting and chatting with a dear friend. Indeed, I found myself looking into my own history, and wondering if this could really happen! I certainly recommend this as an intriguing read, and look forward to the sequel.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 6, 2008

    A reviewer

    No matter if you're looking for a love story, suspense, mystery or danger--this book will give you a good dose of it! The part I enjoy the most is how even the most insignificant changes in the past can make such a tremendous difference in future events and attitudes. When will the sequel be out?

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 4, 2008

    What a great story!!!

    This book hooked me from the very first pages. I am normally a romance reader, but this book has so much more in addition to romance. It greatly balances suspense, mystery and romance into a great story that keeps you waiting for more. I am anxiously awaiting the sequel to this book!! A wonderful read - highly reccomended!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 5, 2008

    Great Reading!

    I thoroughly enjoyed 'Gate to Nowhere' and highly recommend it. There is mystery, romance and good vs. evil -- all the elements that make for an exciting story. I rate it as one of the top books I've read over the years. I'm ready for the next one!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 16, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

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