Blurb:
While grieving the death of her eccentric nana, Sarah
discovers an unexpected gift. She soon grows dependent on the heirloom, a
little box, for comfort and guidance. Feeling restless and needing a change,
Sarah accepts a job as a traveling hospice nurse and ends up in the quaint,
historical town of Camden, South Carolina. Although she loves caring for her
patients, loneliness creeps in and threatens to take root. Eventually she opens
herself to new friendships, and two remarkable yet vastly differing men compete
for her attention. Nate is a true Southerner with a sarcastic wit and genuine
warmth, while Dr. Joseph Thornton is a caring oncologist who is known as the
best catch in the state.
Facing
heart-wrenching trials, the faith of her childhood is all but shattered. In
spite of this, Sarah seeks comfort from her box and is determined to cling to
Nana’s godly legacy. But when a mysterious stranger appears with devastating
news, can her cherished box continue to provide answers or will Sarah realize
her life has been based on nothing but lies?
Author:
Susan grew up in Charlotte, NC and has a psychology degree
from Furman University and a masters in social work from the University of
South Carolina. She jokes that God didn't lead her to a career in hospice; He
took her kicking and screaming the whole way. Now passionate about end-of-life
care, she is a hospice director. She lives in Columbia, SC with her husband and
three phenomenal children.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Sarah gripped the steering wheel as she leaned forward,
straining to see out the windshield. Steady, rhythmic rain pelted down, making
it impossible to concentrate. She hated being late more than she hated her
allergy to cats. She’d have to slow down if she was going to make sense of the
scribbled directions. Why did people live in places unknown to GPSs? She shook
her head as her patience wore thin. How many soybean fields can South Carolina
possibly have? She looked at her watch and grew more agitated. She was
scheduled to admit a patient in Rembert at four-thirty. It was already
four-thirty-five.
It had been a long time since she’d driven through the
country. On a clear day she would have enjoyed the rural setting with vast
farmlands occasionally interrupted by a rolling pasture sprinkled with dairy
cattle. But not today; her supervisor hadn’t even given her time to unpack
before rushing her out to see a new patient.
Sarah sighed in relief when she spotted the narrow road
hidden between a pair of weeping willows. Their gloomy branches spilled over
the drive like long, arthritic fingers. Sarah turned her fuel-efficient coup in
and came to a rolling stop. Why had she not invested in a four-wheel drive?
Staring down the deserted road, she imagined that on a sunny
day it would be picturesque with the stately oak trees and towering pines
framing the passage. But as clouds hovered lower and the skies grew more
ominous, Sarah shivered and willed her heart to slow down.
Determined to reach her destination, she forged ahead only to
discover the country road quickly became a gravel drive. Within a few hundred
yards the gravel disappeared, and before she realized it, it was merely a clay
pathway. Sarah hesitated, wondering if she should push forward or give up and
turn around.
As she prayed about what to do, the skies opened and released
sheets of rain. The windshield became a gray wall. She didn’t have a choice;
she had to stop and wait out the storm.
A chill ran up her spine as lightning bolts flashed across
the sky. A traveling hospice nurse? What was I thinking? Out in the boonies… no
cell phone coverage, nobody to ask directions. I was an idiot to take this job.
What was I thinking? Sarah’s self-reprimand was interrupted by a loud boom of
thunder that shook the car.
She looked in her rearview mirror and was horrified to see a
muddy creek running down the middle of the dirt drive. Her car began inching
sideways. She locked her brakes but the car continued to slide. This is not
good, so not good. Just as she started to panic, it eased into the bank and
found a solid resting place.
I am not going to have a meltdown. Her knuckles turned white
as she squeezed the steering wheel and emphatically declared, “I refuse to have
a meltdown.” As Sarah consciously slowed her breathing, she leaned her head
back on the headrest and let her mind drift to Nana, her amazingly eccentric
grandmother who always knew just how to comfort her, how to quiet her nerves.
Sarah turned and climbed into the backseat. She ripped the
tape off of a moving box, reached in, pulled out several items and tossed them
aside. Sarah was searching for one special treasure. When she finally found it,
she smiled in relief and placed it on her lap. Simply having it near comforted
her.
Wiping condensation from the window, Sarah looked out at the
angry storm. Gusts of wind ravaged the trees, thrusting twigs and leaves onto
the car. She caressed the top of the box as her eyes filled with tears. Lovingly,
she traced the little painted strawberries on the box with her finger. Calm
gradually settled, and a sense of nostalgia consumed her as she peeked under
the lid.
Just as she reached in to retrieve the sacred contents, the
rain eased off and became a light drizzle. Looking at her watch, she realized
she was already thirty minutes late for the hospice admission. Sarah inhaled
deeply, exhaled slowly, and then closed the top of her heirloom.
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