Sierra Nevada Mountains, 1875. Dinah Odell will do anything to escape the cruel manipulations of her greedy uncle. Posing as a nurse, she heads to California to tend to Tristan Fletcher's mentally fragile sister. After the travails of her past, Dinah thinks she's prepared for anything. Except the sensitive, generous, and mysterious man she glimpses behind the cold facade that Tristan presents to the world . . .
With a dark past of his own, Tristan survived by closing his heart to the rest of the world. But he sees in Dinah the same desire to flee, and it sparks his own desire to protect her. To marry her, even. But to love her? When Dinah's secret is revealed, it threatens to ruin everything she and Tristan have worked so hard to create. Will it tear them apart, or strengthen their bond even more?
"Jane Bonander reaches to her readers' hearts." —RT Book Reviews
Sierra Nevada Mountains, 1875. Dinah Odell will do anything to escape the cruel manipulations of her greedy uncle. Posing as a nurse, she heads to California to tend to Tristan Fletcher's mentally fragile sister. After the travails of her past, Dinah thinks she's prepared for anything. Except the sensitive, generous, and mysterious man she glimpses behind the cold facade that Tristan presents to the world . . .
With a dark past of his own, Tristan survived by closing his heart to the rest of the world. But he sees in Dinah the same desire to flee, and it sparks his own desire to protect her. To marry her, even. But to love her? When Dinah's secret is revealed, it threatens to ruin everything she and Tristan have worked so hard to create. Will it tear them apart, or strengthen their bond even more?
"Jane Bonander reaches to her readers' hearts." —RT Book Reviews
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Overview
Sierra Nevada Mountains, 1875. Dinah Odell will do anything to escape the cruel manipulations of her greedy uncle. Posing as a nurse, she heads to California to tend to Tristan Fletcher's mentally fragile sister. After the travails of her past, Dinah thinks she's prepared for anything. Except the sensitive, generous, and mysterious man she glimpses behind the cold facade that Tristan presents to the world . . .
With a dark past of his own, Tristan survived by closing his heart to the rest of the world. But he sees in Dinah the same desire to flee, and it sparks his own desire to protect her. To marry her, even. But to love her? When Dinah's secret is revealed, it threatens to ruin everything she and Tristan have worked so hard to create. Will it tear them apart, or strengthen their bond even more?
"Jane Bonander reaches to her readers' hearts." —RT Book Reviews
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781626810334 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Diversion Publishing |
| Publication date: | 02/06/2019 |
| Series: | The Wolf McCloud Novels , #3 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 320 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
“I found the plot to my first novel in a little known history of Northern California Indians when I learned that Native Americans were being taken as slaves by the settlers, their families threatened with death and dismemberment if they tried to leave. Yes, one can weave a romance around such an appalling event!”
Since then she has published nine full length novels and four anthologies, all dealing with the perils and passions of romantic historical fiction.
She graduated from the University of Minnesota majoring in American and Russian History revealing that, “while all of my stories are set in the US, I had hoped one day to set one in Russia, though in my opinion, the best ones have already been written.”
Jane continues to write and also edits for Melange Books. She currently lives in St. Paul, Minnesota with her husband, Richard Noer.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Trenway Asylum, Upstate New York February, 1875
Daisy coughed into her handkerchief, knowing without looking that what was there would be blood streaked. In a few moments, she would meet Dinah Odell, and the plan Daisy had devised would be put into motion. She would not follow orders and place Dinah in the punishment box. With the matron leaving on holiday, who would know? Daisy had other plans for Dinah.
Her lungs ached, had for weeks. She was weak and frail, barely able to carry out her duties. For her, life was at a close. For Dinah, it was just beginning. She had to convince the child. Child. A smile cracked her dry lips. Though they were only six years apart in age, Daisy felt ancient. It was the consumption, of course. It had ravaged her body almost beyond recognition.
The night before, she'd stood in front of the mirror and wept. Her small breasts sagged; her hipbones were so sharp she was surprised they hadn't penetrated her skin. The hair that had once been her pride and joy was no longer red but a lackluster carrot color, and it hung in lank strands around her face. She had lost most of the curls that had once grown thick and red low on her belly. What was left was dull, almost gray. She would never know a man's love, a man's passion. She would die dried up like a withered spinster because of the damned disease. She'd even cursed God, for who else was to blame if not He?
Reaching into her apron pocket, she pulled out the letter from the employer who had been going to release her from this hellish job. His proposition was generous, and a stunning surprise. She couldn't fathom why someone would offer so much. She reread the last page, still filled with awe.
... and because our mutual acquaintance, David Richards, has recommended you so highly for the job of caring for my dear sister, I offer you something as well: marriage — in name only, of course, you have my word as a gentleman — in exchange for five years of faithful and compassionate service. At the end of that period of time, to guarantee your comfort for the remainder of your life, I will present to you a generous monetary settlement in the amount of ...
Daisy read the amount again, knowing it was a fortune. A bounteous sum. Had she been healthy, she would have taken it. Had she been healthy, she would have married the devil to get out of this place. When Dr. Richards had approached her with the opportunity, he had assured her that Tristan Fletcher was an honorable man. Marrying a stranger was daunting, but it was done all the time. She had a cousin who had married a rancher in Wyoming, sight unseen. She was happy enough. But Daisy knew she was dying; nothing would change that. Dinah was not. She was young and vibrant and full of life. She shouldn't languish in this godforsaken place.
It had been at that moment that Daisy had quietly put together her plan. But knowing the spirited Dinah as she did, she knew an arranged marriage would not sit well, even though it was temporary and worth a great deal of money.
Daisy held the sheet of paper by the corner over the candle flame, watching it turn to ashes. Whatever kind of life awaited Dinah Odell beyond these grim asylum walls was immeasurably better than the one she faced inside them.
A clock somewhere in the cavernous building sounded eleven bells, the echo reverberating dismally, reminding Daisy that the sooner she got Dinah out of this place, the better.
She found the other letter, the one she'd written exonerating Dinah of all guilt, and tucked it into the hidden pocket in her travel bag, the one she would give Dinah. Daisy had many things to tell Dinah, so many things to say. Her mind wasn't working as it once had. She hoped she would remember everything.
With difficulty because of her weakness, she closed her travel bag and went to meet Dinah in the remote storage room.
"It's the only way, dear."
Dinah stared in horror at the black metal discipline box, tearing her gaze from the shackles at the bottom. She remembered the times she'd felt the cold, cruel metal bite into the tender flesh at her wrists and ankles. Even now, they throbbed at the visual reminder.
Nurse Jenkins leaned against the wall, her face pale and drawn, her eyes swimming with feverish tears. She was thin and frail and appeared far older than her twenty-six years. She coughed and doubled over, clutching her stomach.
Dinah pressed her fingers to her mouth, as if doing so would banish her sympathetic pain. It wasn't possible. Fear, gratitude, and compassion clogged her throat. "But to willingly take my place, Daisy. Why?"
Daisy Jenkins coughed again, the sound deep and painful. What she brought up was pink and frothy, and she folded it into a handkerchief. "It means your survival, Dinah. I have little time left." She took a deep breath, one that rattled from her lungs. "You've seen how weak I am. I can barely carry out my duties here. I couldn't fool the matron another hour let alone another day." Coughing again, she scanned the room with her fever-laden eyes.
"I detest this place and everything it stands for. I would rather die saving you than live another moment having to serve the matron's whims."
The flickering candlelight hollowed out her already sunken cheeks, making her appear cadaverous. "You don't belong here. I know it and Matron Doppling knows it. You've been punished for being a free spirit. I've seen how you hide your pain behind your tough facade." She laughed, but it turned into another fit of coughing. When she recovered, she gripped Dinah's arm until she caught her breath. "Had you not been so gently born and raised, you'd have had a successful run on the stage."
Dinah was unable to watch Daisy's swift deterioration. "I didn't know I was that transparent."
"To no one but me, perhaps. You're a chameleon."
It was true. Dinah had held on to her sanity in large part because of her ability to become whomever her jailers thought she was. If she could make them laugh, so much the better for her. Unfortunately, most of them thought she was merely cheeky. In part, they were right. But she also kept her spirit alive because to lose it meant to die. Death was a constant. It visited the inmates daily.
"You're here because Martin Odell wanted to get rid of you. Don't forget that.
At the sound of her uncle's name, thoughts of freedom became elusive, shuddering through Dinah like flickering aspen leaves in the wind. She kept her face turned away so Daisy wouldn't sense her feelings. "Yes, I know. But if Martin discovers I'm gone, he'll just find me and drag me back."
Since the untimely death of her parents, Martin had changed. No longer the doting uncle, he had first put her dear sister, Charlotte, away, claiming her fits required treatment she couldn't get at home. That in itself should have been a warning to Dinah, but how would she have known? Since childhood, Charlotte had been sickly, and grieving for Mama and Papa had weakened her more. Even the doctor who came to call agreed that Charlotte would get better care in a sanitarium. Dinah had no way of knowing then that the sanitarium was actually an asylum for the insane, the very one from which she was now planning to escape.
It wasn't until Charlotte's death that Dinah discovered what kind of place Trenway actually was. Even so, it was hard for her to believe her sister had intentionally taken her own life. It was no wonder that Martin wanted Dinah out of the way. Her caustic tongue and fearless need to discover the truth about Charlotte's death had prompted her uncle to pack her off to the asylum, too. How effortlessly he'd done it! No one had questioned his motives or her state of mind. Not even the doctors.
"Yes," Dinah repeated, her heart heavy, "he'll just find me and bring me back."
"Not if he doesn't know."
She swung around. "How can he not discover I'm gone?" "Oh, he may. Eventually." Daisy dug into her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to Dinah. "In the meantime, you'll be long gone, safely away from here."
Dinah took out the letter, read it, sifted through the other items in the envelope, then dropped into the chair by the old, battered desk. "Your train ticket is in here. And money. You want me to take your new position?" A fresh flood of fears surged through her. "I couldn't get away with it. They know your name, don't they?"
"Of course. But things change, dear. I've been meaning to write them and explain why someone else is coming in my place, but I've just not had the strength. Anyway, you'll think of something. You're a clever girl."
Dinah stared at the letter in her lap, running her fingers over the page. "I couldn't get away with it," she repeated.
"You can and you will. Would you rather stay here? Think about it. You have no future here. None."
Frowning, Dinah bit down on her lip, knowing she couldn't bear to stay behind asylum walls if there was any chance at all she could escape. Every day she felt as though she were suffocating. "I know, but — "
"You have a wonderful sense of humor, Dinah, and your instinct to survive is the only thing that has kept you sane. After I'm gone, there will be no one here to act as a buffer between you and the matron." Dinah blinked, hoping to stem her tears. "But if I leave, you'll die." She was suddenly struck with an idea. "Why don't we both leave? Oh, Daisy, let's both go!"
With the effort of one scaling a rocky cliff, Daisy hiked a bony hip onto the edge of the desk. "I've already thought of that. I would only slow you down. Whether you want to believe me or not, I'm going to die. The efforts required to travel would be too much for me. Trust me, Dinah, I'm not trying to be a martyr. I have very little time left, and I think it's important that at some point, a body be found they can assume is yours." She pressed her handkerchief over her mouth.
"We're of similar height. Though your hair is a more vibrant red than mine, it's comparable."
"But you're not going to die this minute, you'll —" Her argument was broken off by another fit of Daisy's coughing. This time, she actually slumped to the floor.
"Daisy!" Hurrying to her side, Dinah lifted her head into her lap. Daisy's eyes were bright. "I don't have much strength left, Dinah Odell. Or time." Her voice was but a whisper, her breathing labored and bubbly. "Do this for me. Do this for all women." "But, how can I possibly pass myself off as a nurse?" Dinah had a sense of panic. Her dreams of freedom dwindled further amidst the harsh reality of what Daisy wanted her to do.
"It's not so difficult. All most patients need is a lot of understanding. And love."
"But what if she's truly insane? What if ... what if she's violent and mad and I'm not able to control her?" Suddenly the whole idea of escape seemed ludicrous. Farfetched. Fanciful.
"You've seen what goes on here, Dinah. Just remember that physical punishment never makes things better. It only compounds the problem." Daisy coughed again and her eyes rolled back, exposing the jaundiced whites.
"Oh, Daisy. Dear, dear Daisy." A breath-robbing tightness seized Dinah's chest as she stroked Daisy's hair. Daisy's coughing became worse. "I won't last until morning. If you don't do as I say, they will somehow find a way to blame you for my death. And your uncle will gladly join the throng. At least leaving will give you a good head start."
Each word was spoken with great difficulty. Dinah had to bend close to hear. "Count on that, Dinah. In spite of my efforts to be deceptive about our relationship, the matron has seen how familiar we've become. Were I to leave you here, she would exact her most heinous punishment on you.
"She's gone for a few days to visit her no-account son, Edward. Now is the time to do this. Freedom is yours." Although her words were halting and barely audible, the message was clear.
Dinah said nothing. She sat on the floor and rocked Daisy in her arms long into the night, as a mother holds a dying child, grateful that no one disturbed them.
Freedom is yours. She couldn't count the number of times she'd prayed for release from the hell hole in which she now found herself. Thoughts of her sometime suitor, Charles Avery, flicked through her mind for the first time in weeks.
How childish she'd been all those months ago, when she thought he might intercede on her behalf with her uncle. She'd been just a girl then. A little girl who thought of parties and dresses and sweet kisses stolen on balconies. She'd clung to those sappy notions, wanting the sort of life her mother once had because she knew of nothing else. That had been over a year ago. Such things no longer found a place in her mind; she had all she could do to think about survival. But to escape ...
Daisy had been scheduled to leave the asylum for her new position in California, and at first, Dinah had thought she was meeting her to say good-bye. But when Daisy told her she meant Dinah to escape, Dinah could not have imagined the extent of her plan.
Dinah closed her eyes. California. The entire charade was worthwhile if it got her to California. Unfastening the top of her prison gown, she reached inside and pulled out Charlotte's diary, which she carried close to her body for safekeeping.
With Daisy's feverish head in her lap, Dinah opened the journal. Charlotte's spidery scrawl leaped out at her, causing her heart to lurch in her chest again, as it did each time she saw the writing. He was here again today, my Teddy was, promising to take me away. To California.
Dinah flipped to the last entry. He has abandoned me and our unborn child. I have no reason to go on living. Tears blurred Dinah's vision, so she closed the book, returning it to the pocket Daisy had stitched inside her tattered camisole. Poor, darling Charlotte. Dinah hadn't had the chance to say good-bye. Yes, maybe it was worth the risk if it got her closer to finding out what had really happened to Charlotte. She might have been weaker than Dinah, but she wouldn't have killed herself. Even Daisy hadn't been able to find out exactly how Charlotte had died. I have no reason to go on living didn't automatically mean she'd taken her own life, did it? Once again her gaze found the black metal box. She shuddered, for the box looked like a macabre black coffin. Even the lid came down and latched like a coffin lid. But instead of a silk lining and a fine pillow for one's head, there were noisy shackles for the limbs. Cold, heavy, iron shackles.
Because of her rebellious ways, she'd spent more time in the device than most of the other women. It was a harsh and cruel punishment, not fit for criminals, much less helpless, hapless women. If the matron had thought to drive her mad by putting her in the box, she'd made a mistake, however, for each new form of punishment made Dinah stronger. But she knew of women who went into the box and were never seen again.
Once the box was shoved into the bowels of the dark, dank room and out of sight, the person being punished could go undiscovered for weeks. Months. It had happened before. An easy way to dispose of a troublesome patient whose family didn't want her free. And with the matron on holiday herself, she would not be around to make sure Daisy had done her job.
It was nearly dawn, and everything was quiet when Daisy drew her last breath. Dinah expelled a sad, tired sigh and hugged her one last time. She put Daisy on the floor and undressed her, replacing the nurse's clothing with her own. Then, with difficulty, she lifted Daisy into her arms, struggling to put her body into the box. She cringed and almost cried out when Daisy's lolling head banged against the side. Dinah placed the shackles around Daisy's ankles and wrists, shoving away her anguish at having to treat the body so. She said a prayer for Daisy's perfect soul, then crossed herself before closing the lid on the box and locking it.
She searched through Daisy's travel bag, which was now hers, and gasped in surprise. "My bear," she whispered, memories swamping her as she lifted the bear from the bag. She pressed her nose to the fur, its scent still familiar. She'd slept with the bear long before she'd cometo Trenway, long after the time when a young woman should sleep with dolls or stuffed animals. The toy had been confiscated, along with everything else she owned, when she'd arrived here.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Winter Heart"
by .
Copyright © 1996 Jane Bonander.
Excerpted by permission of Diversion Publishing Corp..
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