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Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

Hektor – Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

A Bronze Age Romance Novel

© Written and Published by Amarissa Amber Cale

© Copyright 2015 Amarissa Amber Cale


3,200 years ago there existed a nation of Trojan people. After eleven years of research, and reading about the war that annihilated their race, I decided to breathe life where it did not exist before. Through my own desire to know more about these people, I have come to the conclusion that the only way to know more is to imagine how they may have lived.Trojan 1

I have researched enough to know what they ate, who their trade relations and allies were, as well as what they wore, and how fiercely they loved. Dedication to family, country and their religion was utmost important to this pious race of people.

What I have taken the last seven years to write is what I see in my own imagination as the way Trojans lived – and loved. Historical romance has always been my passion, and I want to take you on the same journeys I have been on and loved for so long.

The Beginning commences with two main characters, to whom I have given their own views and voices. It is how they met and fell in love. A tragedy separates the young lovers and the hero, Hektôr, must save his best friend and future wife, Andromakhé, or die in trying to rescue her. What was love and dedication 3,200 years before we were born? Will love have a happy conclusion? Find out in the first saga of many more to come.

Amarissa Amber Cale – Author:

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“I can climb the ladder by myself, Dryops.  Leave me alone.”

I was not going to allow any of my brothers to put me on a ship that would whisk me from my home and the people I loved.  Before I left, I went to see mother to say goodbye and beg her promise she would send for me the moment she could.

Staring out over the Aegean Sea, my eyes filled with tears, for the unknown and the unshakable feeling I would never return to my beloved Thebe.  Podes came to stand behind me in awkward silence.

When he gently put his hands on my shoulders, I turned and fell into his chest, my body wracked with painful sobs.

“Andromakhé, this is not forever.  You must understand father and the rest of us only want what is best for you.”

I wept piteously at my brother’s paternal tone and comforting embrace.  Whom would I have to turn to in Troy, when I felt small and lonely like an orphaned whelp in the wooded knolls?

The rest of the voyage was no more encouraging.  The spring sea was choppy from the continuous rains and roaring winds.  Our journey had taken four nights longer than expected.  We stopped to camp for a night on an island my brother told me was called Tenedos Isle.

I did not want to set sail the next morn.  The Isle was enchanting, and Troy was now within sight, barely visible through the lingering fog and mist.  The natural beauty of the land was mesmerizing.  Wishing to linger as long as possible on this earthen marvel, I strolled along the halcyon shores while my brothers prepared to lift anchor.

The sand was warm between my toes, glittering like golden liquid, washing slowly in and out of the frothy waves.  The grass was deep and lush, and the droplets of dew shimmered like brilliant stars from the wild emerald blades.  Bounteous fields unveiled flowers arrayed in a multitude of soft cherry and rosy corals sprinkled with dabs of violet and crimson, delivered a fragrant pleasantness in the dewy aurora.  Tenedos Isle was an affecting vision with the ability to heal one’s yearning soul.


’Twas time to face my future.  A breathless Podes found my haven sooner than I would have wanted.

“Andromakhé, we must go now, King Priam’s sentinels have espied our ship.  They know our royal banner and have no doubt sent for King Priam already.  We can trifle no longer.”

His words stung, partly because I did not wish to leave, but more so because I did not wish to be reminded I had no choice.  I nearly stomped as I marched past my irritating brother to board our ship for the last of my journey to the stronghold from Hades.

Watching those imposing walls grow closer I was astounded.  They were not black and certainly not menacing.  Rather they were a pale golden-brown with ramparts and walkways wide enough for a chariot at their peaks.  The towers were enormous, as my brothers had claimed, and two of those massive towers jutted out from the walls on either side of the lofty gate that fronted the sea.  Troy was majestic.

My bullheaded brothers had me believing I was going to somewhere akin to Tartarus.  Brothers were mean and untruthful.  I would show them.  I may not want to be in Troy, but I did not wish to be on the same vessel as they were.

I espied him immediately, the one they called Prince Hektôr.  Right then, he was conceivably my best ally.  Of the royal court awaiting our arrival on the looming hill beyond the harbor, he was the only one close to my age.

Aenius was right about one thing; the young prince did not appear as though he smiled often.  Although I was still aboard the ship, I could see him clearly.  Habilimented in formal robes, he stood poised regally beside his chariot.  Indeed, he was an intent young man.

Nonetheless, I would be nice to him.  Only to him.  My thoughts were interrupted by the grinding and jarring of the ship’s hull scraping the pier, marking our official arrival in the Trojan harbor.

I headed to the foredeck so I could descend the rope ladder ahead of my brothers, who were too busy securing the ship to notice my hasty departure.  Or ’twas what I thought before I overheard Dryops alerting Podes of my attempted escape from their controlling prehends.  Dryops was worse than my nurses for prattling.

“Andromakhé, come here this instant.  You need to wait until the plank is set out.”  Podes demanded, and rather rudely.

Realizing I was on the wrong side of the deck, I rushed as swiftly as pride would allow past my incensed brother to reach the other taffrail and sea ladder.  The labyrinth the Trojans called a harbor ran the entire circumference of the bay.  Did Trojans build anything that was not monolithic?

“Andromakhé, you are not making a good impression on King Priam and his sons.”  Podes hissed at me as I eluded him and began my descent.

I paused long enough to fire back, “Did I fail to mention my plans did not include seeking to impress anyone whilst I must live here – in exile?”

Safely on the pier, I straightened my robes and hair the best I could manage, and continued with my agenda, which did not include speaking to my brothers.

I encountered King Priam’s chariot first, and giving his kingship an abrupt nod, I whisked past his outstretched hand, and paraded straight to his sullen heir’s chariot.

My first meeting with the Trojan heir was unforgettable.  In my haste to put as much distance between my overbearing brothers and myself as I could, I gave little more consideration to the prince until his hand was thrust out before me.  Without a word, I accepted the young man’s help into his chariot.

Snatching the harnesses, I inquired of the prince, who had yet to climb into the carriage, “Are you going to stand there all day, or shall I find my own way?”

Once he was seated beside me, I gazed at the young Trojan, certain I was mistaken about which of the king’s sons he was.  He made it clear he knew whom I was.

“Is something wrong princess?”

I tried not to show my irritation at being called princess, needing to ensure I had at least one friend in this strange land.

“My name is Andromakhé.  Are you … Hektôr?”

For my absurd question, I received a disarming smile, and a polite nod.

“Prince Hektôr, son of King Priam of Wilusa, and apparently your charioteer for the ascent to the city.”

I was thunderstruck.  Hektôr was not, by any stretch, what I expected.  “I thought you were only a few winters older than me.  I must apologize for staring, ’twas not ladylike.”

I felt the color rising from my neck to burn hotly at my cheeks.  I was further embarrassed to realize I still held onto the reins when patiently, the prince asked, “Do you know which mule trail you prefer to follow?”

I did not raise my eyes from the chariot floor when I handed the harness to the affable lad next to me.

“I ride a great deal at home, and I suppose ’tis a habit.  Please accept my apology.”

The reminder of home elicited pangs of sorrow and desolation.  Taking the harness, Hektôr surprised me when he asked, “Andromakhé, would you like to ride with me sometimes?”

I snapped my head up to meet his gaze, desperate to believe he meant it.

“You would not mind?  My brothers hate it when I ask to ride with them, so I usually ride alone.”

This time, he laughed aloud.  ’Twas a rich melodious timbre.

“And I have never met a female who would consider riding with me.  ’Twould be an honor were you to grace me with your company, Andromakhé.”

Tears quickly stung my eyes, though not from sadness, rather from the kindness of this gentle stranger.

“Thank you Hektôr.”

“’Tis my pleasure, my lady.”

In the next instant, when our eyes locked, I felt a surge of emotion and warmth, and an unexpected sense of belonging.

Once we were on our way, I had to ask, “Hektôr, how old are you?”

He chuckled, and responded lightly, “Fifteen winters, though I was born in the latter half of spring.  And you?”

Astonished, I forgot his question before he finished asking it.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you are positively the biggest lad of fifteen winters I have ever met.”

Hektôr explained, “I believe ’tis a family characteristic.  My brothers and cousins are of fair height, as are my father and uncles.  You are twelve winters, correct?”

“Yes,” I answered, wondering what my age had to do with his size.

“I have one brother, Helenus, who is one winter older than you, and although he was born a twin, he is close to my size.”

This I found astounding, I knew twins were smaller than most, not larger.

“You have a unique family, Hektôr.”

Peering back to make sure no one else could hear me; I asked Hektôr something I thought others might laugh at.

“Hektôr, is it true your father has nearly fifty children?”

“He now has fifty-two.  Mother recently blessed our family with another daughter, Laodice.  One of father’s concubines also had twins just before my infant sister’s birth.”

So my brothers were truthful about at least some things where Troy was concerned.

“That is unbelievable.  You know, I have often wondered what ’twould be like to have younger siblings.  Father does not have concubines though, and mother has been ill most of my life, so I am the last child of King Eëtion.”

Hektôr seemed surprised by this.  “Why does your father not have concubines?  I thought most kings and princes had at least a few.”

’Twas my turn to laugh.  “Mother would carve my father into bits were she to find him with a concubine.  Besides, father adores my mother, and only her.”

I thought Hektôr would be uncomfortable with this conversation, but as I would learn later, he always spoke from his heart.

“I agree with your father’s beliefs; how can a man devote himself to many women?  If he were content with one woman, and loved her unconditionally, should that not be enough for him?”

“I like the way you think, Prince Hektôr.  I imagine we shall become good friends.”

As we approached the city, I found myself speechless.  Troy was without argument, the most beautiful fortress in all of Asia Minor.  The city unfolded boundlessly over the vast plains; beetling above the fertile land like an intemperate eagle in her nest, a watchful guardian over Her Trojan landscape.  The lower settlement extended far to the South and East, where hundreds of beautifully built dwellings housed the citizens of the sacred city.



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Iliad, Fall of Troy, and The Aftermath

A 3,200 Year Old Journey

© Prelude to ‘Prince Hektôr, Hero & Trojan Warrior’

© Written and Published by Amarissa Amber Cale

© Copyright 2015 Amarissa Amber Cale

Prologue to Iliad, Fall of Troy, and The Aftermath, now available on Amazon and Smashwords

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Iliad, Fall of Troy, and the Aftermath

Iliad, Fall of Troy, and the Aftermath

This is a prelude to a series (each a standalone) I will soon release.  The series is chiefly historical romance, and centers on the Bronze Age.  Circa 1250 B.C.E.  Since I have discovered how few people know much, if anything, about the era, I have decided to spend some time writing this summary of all that would be pertinent to the series.  I hope you look forward to many of the romantic stories to come in this fascinating time in our history.

At the end of this narrative, I have added an excerpt of the upcoming series opener, “For The Love of a Trojan Princes.”  Cassandra has been stolen from her home and family in Troy and swept across the sea at the request of the Achaean king, Nestor.  As he is aging, he is desperate to see his only son and heir to wed and have a family.  The Trojan princess is perfect; she has beauty and comes from royalty herself.  What Nestor does not count on is her family’s retaliation – or Cassandra’s aversion to the supposed union.

So why have I chosen to write a series about the Bronze Age and Prince Hektôr?

Eleven years ago, I began researching the Bronze Age and found it profoundly fascinating.  I have read much concerning what is termed ‘the age of heroes’, and believe it is an era in our history deserving more attention.  What of noble Prince Hektôr?  You must have heard some heroic accounts regarding the bravest of the Trojans during the Trojan War, the pillar of Troy?  Or have you?  Seems almost absurd to ask this question; or does it?  Generally, people are familiar with Prince Hektôr and his fearless Endeavour to safeguard his family, and his nation from the brutal Achaean onslaught.  Then again, are they?

For the Love of a Trojan Princess

For the Love of a Trojan Princess

The real bona fide question here I expect would be, to what extent can we identify the man himself?  Who in fact was Prince Hektôr?  He did not materialize only at the launch of the Trojan War, did he?  Are we then to believe the man lived and died only during the Trojan War?  Typically, tales of the War in Troy focus on the Achaeans and their difficulties during the Siege, not the heroic prince.  (An ironic note here; the Achaeans thought the War long, demanding and tedious, despite it was they who boorishly laid Siege on Troy, and obstinately lingered about for ten years!)

Scores of hours and untold months searching in countless locations yielded only the realization I have ascertained precisely nothing in reference to Prince Hektôr, outside the Epic Tales.  I have pursued book after book, encyclopedias, thousands of websites, library archives, back to the books, and found yet nothing beyond a morsel of detail.  Through archaeology, Homer`s Epic account, Linear B, Hittite tablets, and other narratives lucratively passed down through time, we have a considerable amount of information on most individuals in the saga.

Continue reading for free by clicking on the book cover and downloading for free!


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For The Love of a Trojan Princess – Coming Soon!

For The Love of a Trojan Princess – Coming Soon!

For The Love of a Trojan Princess

How far will he go to win her love?

**This book will be released in March/2015.

Imagine yourself in the Bronze Age, 3,200 years ago, kidnapped from your father’s kingdom, thousands of miles from home across the Sea to a foreign country.  Now imagine being torn between the love of your country and love of a man who is the son of a sworn enemy.

For the Love of a Trojan Princess

When the Trojan princess, Cassandra, is kidnapped by ruthless Achaean vassals from Pylos, the Trojan army gathers and sets course for Greece to confront King Nestor and bring the princess home.  The army is opposed by a larger defense who deny Cassandra’s presence in Achaea.  Cassandra swears she could never fall for the enemy, but is her will strong enough to deny the Achaean prince when he proves to be a strong yet tender soul?  Cassandra battles her emotions to remain distant from this valiant warrior who is determined to win her love.

Prince Dorion detests war, but is torn between his father’s wishes and what is morally right when he is faced with the prospect of losing the one woman he has ever loved.  Hidden away from her kinsmen, and fearless brother, Hektor, who leads the Trojan army,

Ancient home of King Nestor

Ancient home of King Nestor

Cassandra is desperate to maintain a semblance of peace between the two nations, but is her will enough to free them all?  When she realizes her family is in mortal danger, will she find a way to escape her captors, or can Prince Dorion bend her resolve to his with love and valor?

Find out what life and love was like in the ‘age of heroes’, when Dorion and Cassandra each battle their own hearts and customs in this Bronze Age historical romance.

This unique new novel will be released March 5th/2015

Amarissa Amber Cale – Author:

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Excerpt below:

For The Love of a Trojan Princess
How far will he go to win her love?

© Prelude to the ‘Prince Hektôr, the Trojan Hero’ series
© Written and Published by Amarissa Amber Cale
© Copyright 2015 Amarissa Amber Cale

Chapter One – Stolen From My Home
1260 B.C.E.

“Get your filthy hands off me, you despicable animal,” I shouted at my captor.

“No one can hear your cries, you spoiled whore,” he growls, his face a mere breath from mine.

I refused to back down. These warriors, who had spent six days enjoying father’s hospitality, kidnapped me and were planning to steal me away from my family and homeland. They were supposed to be visiting on a mission of peace, but it turned into my family’s worst nightmare. I knew father’s men were searching for me, but we were too close to the marauder’s ships, and my time was running out.

“My father will have your heads on a spit before nightfall. I can assure your safety if you release me now. It’s not too late to change your fate,” I pleaded with the man who bound my arms behind my back.

He laughed and said gruffly, “Too late to alter our course now, princess. I have my orders and plan to fulfill them. My king expects your presence, and so he shall have it.”

The brute holding my ropes pushed me forward over the rugged terrain between my city and the Hellespont Harbor. I stumbled to my knees and he yanked me to my feet by my hair. The only time I have ever cursed having hair almost to my knees was the day I found myself captive to a host of vassals to a Greek king. Why King Nestor would want to bring me to Pylos was beyond my understanding. His men came to Troy to sign a treaty, not to steal one of father’s beloved daughters. At least that was what my father and the elders believed.

The council had gathered just the day before to sign the treaty as allies and pay homage to the gods for their union. But father had been fooled. The treaty was a contrived scheme to put my family and city at ease, and make them believe that there would be peace between Troy and Achaean Greece.

As the Achaean warship came into view, my heart beat rampant beneath my ribs. My eyes searched the plain toward Troy, but there was no sign of the Skaean guard. The army was searching for me I had no doubt. Father had to know by then I was missing. It had taken half of the day to walk this far, and when I did not come for morning prayers and repast, father would have sent my brothers in search of me. They simply must be searching for me by now, I thought.

“Diomedes, watch her while I see to the supplies for our voyage,” my captor said to one of the other drolls in his assembly.

“I will take good care of her Ajax,” Diomedes said to his friend, appraising me as if I was a prize goat at market.

Ajax, the larger by a head, grabbed the smaller man by his tunic and snarled, “If you touch her and spoil her for Prince Dorion, I will personally hand your head to King Nestor. Our orders were strict and clear. She is to be delivered to Pylos untouched.”

Diomedes yanked at the ropes binding my arms and sneered at me, low enough so only I would hear, “Lucky for you, I like the king, else I would have you right here.”

I yanked myself away from his grasp and spat back, “I would love to see you try. I would liberate you of that befouled thing between your legs if you did.”

“Careful, whore. We have a three week voyage, and I may yet have half a mind yet to assuage my needs on such a long journey,” he said, leering at the bosom of my imperial violet silk gown.

I averted my gaze. I didn’t want this monster to see the fear in my eyes, or the tears that began to well at the prospect of being swept from my home into enemy hands. The hulking black ships were less than a league from where I stood with the vassals surrounding me. I was desperate to keep my wits about me at the sight. Oh brother, where are you, I thought.

Ajax returned and pulled Diomedes aside. “The ship is ready and our winds are fair. We must hide her from the men, else they may try to take liberties. They know their king’s orders, but you know what they are like after a long voyage away from Achaea.”

“I will conceal her identity as we board,” he said, smiling wryly and removing his cloak. “We all know how the men reacted to her presence at meals in Priam’s dining Hall. Leave it to me and my men.”

Ajax turned toward me and said aloud, “Keeping her safe is as much your responsibility as my own. Girl, if you know what is good for you, you will obey my orders as well as his,” he said, as Diomedes wrapped his heavy cloak around my shoulders, and pulled the hood to conceal my kohl tresses.

Diomedes stood behind Ajax and glared at me with a look that caused me to shudder. Ajax reached beneath the cloak and cut my ropes. He shoved me forward. “Follow my friend here, and don’t say a word. Once you are safely out of sight, the ropes will be replaced until we are safely away from these cursed shores.”

His words stung my heart, and I searched once more for any sign of father’s men or my brother, Hektôr. Finding no sign, I held my chin high and followed the two men to the waiting ship. There was no point in trying to flee with so many Achaean warriors and vassals nearby. As we boarded the plank, I lowered my gaze to the ground to avoid eye contact. The men knew I was a woman, but did not know who I was, for which I was thankful.

Diomedes and Ajax led me below deck and closed the hatch above us. My surroundings were bleak and there was a small pallet with ratty furs covering it. Was I to endure three weeks in this dungeon, I wondered. I could smell the dank, salty sea air from one tiny window. The clouds had moved in over us during the trek to the ships, so there was little light until Diomedes lit a wall torch. Once I could see my temporary habitat clearly, I was mortified to find more filthy coverings on the floor, and rat droppings upon them.

The cloak was removed and bindings replaced on my wrists. Ajax shoved me toward the small pallet. “Sit and be quiet wench,” he said and turned to Diomedes, who had settled on a small chair near the makeshift bed. “Watch her.” With that, he climbed the ladder to the main deck.

I sat on the torn pelts on the pallet. Diomedes stared at me without saying a word. His expression held contempt and disdain. “Why am I here?” I questioned the stoic man.

“Because my king demanded it so. I can only tell you that his son will wed you within days of our arrival,” he laughed, then continued, “And you will become an Achaean Queen once my king renounces his throne to his son.”

I was taken aback by his words and stood before him. “That will never happen. My father will send his army to bring me home. I will not consent to wed some arrogant prince who cannot find a wife without stealing her. He must be a homely man if he has to kidnap an enemy princess to marry,” I snapped.

Diomedes stood, his face so close I could smell his foul breath on my forehead. “Prince Dorian is a very handsome man, and since he has found himself hating all women whom he’s ever known, his father has chosen you to wed his son. And you will marry him, regardless what you believe, or what happens on this voyage,” he said and pushed me back onto the dirty bed. He took my hair into his hand and raised it to his face to inhale its rich floral scent. “Anything can happen before we arrive in Pylos. Anything,” he said in the most menacing tone I had ever heard and flung my hair away.

“I will never wed the son of your king. I am already betrothed to an Egyptian prince, so cannot wed anyone else. My brother’s men will come for me and annihilate you and your kinsmen,” I retorted haughtily.

Diomedes threw his head back and laughed. “You do not think we have made every effort at caution? This moment, your dear father believes you have run away to escape your bonds to the Egyptian prince. Your handmaidens were easily bought.”

A frigid chill ran through my blood. How could this happen to my family and myself?……

More to come,March/2015!


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Angels and Their Demons – 2nd in the Angels Wear Lipstick Series

Angels and Their Demons

© Written and Published by Amarissa Amber Cale

© Copyright 2014 Amarissa Amber Cale

Now available on Amazon and Smashwords!


The second installment in the ‘Angels Wear Lipstick’ series follows a young woman who escaped the cruelty she suffered at home as a young child. As an adult, she becomes caregiver to one of her abusers. Her peaceful life is soon interrupted by shocking accusations of murder. A whirlwind investigation leaves many to doubt Katie’s innocence, including Katie herself. She finds solace and support from an esteemed partner, but even he may not be able to prevent Katie’s conviction.Demons 1

Katie was born in 1964, to teen parents who treated her like a showpiece – and a punching bag for her antagonistic mother. Her life revolved around flashing camera bulbs and tyrannical abuse by her parents. When she was young, Katie was a well-behaved and adorable little girl, but as she got older, she came to understand hers was not a normal family. Despite suspicion surrounding what took place behind the Pryor’s closed doors, friends, family, and professionals alike remained silent.

After Katie is molested, and her tormentor dies, Leda is left to raise the young teen Katie alone. Katie never would forgive her mother’s reaction to the molestation. She became what her mother claimed was a ‘problem child’ and ran away from home. At thirteen, Katie left her mother’s abusive ways forever, making her way on the streets of Toronto.

A kindhearted minister and his wife take Katie in and nurture her, leading her onto a path of love and decency toward humanity. Katie’s young life is dramatically enriched and she finds peace – until duty calls her home to care for an invalid mother. At twenty-five, when Katie’s mother becomes disabled, she feels obligated to return and take care of her, despite their turbulent history.

Strong characters and the life-altering events that follow them will keep you riveted to the very last word. Angels & Their Demons is the second in the Angels Wear Lipstick series. The first book follows Katie’s troubled childhood and her abusive parents as she grows into an endearing young teen, and her escape from manipulating tormentors.

*Both novels are stand alone, and can be read as separate stories.*

Chapter One – March 1989

“Hello?” Katie said, annoyed at being awakened after her long shift at the restaurant. Who could be calling at this late hour, she thought, looking at her bedside clock.

“This is Dr. McNamara, from St. Thomas hospital. I am sorry to call at this hour, but it is very important I speak with you. Is this Miss Katie Pryor?”

Katie sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes and stretching. “How can I help you, doctor?”

“I have a woman here in my care who claims she is your mother. Her name is Leda Pryor. She has asked me to contact you and tell you she has had a bad fall and needs your help. You are a somewhat difficult woman to track down,” Chris chuckled.

One of her aunts must have given him the number, Katie thought. “That was the intention. How can I help you, doctor?” Katie repeated.

“Well, she had a bad fall on some ice a couple weeks ago and I have replaced Mrs. Pryor’s hip and repaired a break in her calf. However, I’m afraid before she can go home she will need someone there to care for her on a full time basis. That is why I’m calling you now. She will be ready to leave the hospital within a few days and I have no choice but to send her home. There are no alternatives here.”

“Then tell her to hire someone, or send her to some sort of home. She’s not my responsibility,” Katie said, desperate to end the conversation.

“I am afraid a home is not an option at this point, and she claims she can’t afford to hire a nurse, Miss Pryor. Can you come to my office tomorrow, so we can discuss alternatives? I’m stuck with a lack of options here, and I need your help. Mrs. Pryor tells me you would be willing to come to her home to care for her. You were the main contact on her medical record, but she did not have your phone number.”

“Leda is wrong; I will not go to her home to care for her. I don’t care what she tells you.”

Chris was stunned by what Katie told him. She was so blunt it took him off guard. “Miss Pryor, you are her daughter, aren’t you? Look, as I told you, I am at a dead end here. Please, can we talk about this?”

“Alright, alright. I honestly don’t know what I can do to help you, and the name is Putter, not Pryor. Listen, I have a little time after three, if that works for you,” Katie replied, exasperated.

Chris gave Katie the directions to his office at the hospital and contact phone number. “Thank you, Miss Putter. I will see you then.”

Chris tossed his pen on the desk and decided to chat with Leda Pryor before heading home. If he was going to get through to Miss Putter, he needed some background on this young woman. Perhaps Leda would enlighten him. She came across as a decent woman. Mrs. Pryor seemed easy to get along with. What confused Chris was he was told Katie was an honorable woman. He had to figure out what was holding Katie back from helping her mother.

“Mrs. Pryor, how are you feeling? I just wanted to check in on you before I went home and make sure you were comfortable.”

Leda adjusted herself in the bed, wincing with the effort. “What a dear young man you are. I’m still in a lot of pain. Have you contacted my dear daughter yet, doctor?”

“Yes, I have contacted Katie. You didn’t tell me she has changed her name to Putter. Has she married? Chris asked.

“I frankly don’t know what she does anymore. I haven’t seen her for a few years,” Leda chuckled. She would not tell the good doctor her daughter ran away more than ten years ago. “Katie hasn’t spoken to me for a bit, although I don’t know why, to be honest.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I am however meeting with Katie tomorrow afternoon here at the hospital.”

“She’s coming here? Will I see her?”

“Yes, she’s coming to St. Thomas. Is there anything you can tell me about her past that may help me understand where her thoughts are? Maybe something about her childhood or relationships with family perhaps? She seems a mite distant.”

“Oh, doctor, she was always the apple of my eye. A blessing from the heavens above, she was. I loved her and nurtured her from the day she was born to me. Never had any other children but her to love. But you know, the very moment her dear father passed, she became a young tyrant. She always hated me after he died, but I don’t know why.”

Chris was intrigued. “How did her father die, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He fell from a building he was working on out west. Katie always blamed herself. Before he passed on, she was angry with her father for some reason and told him she wished he were dead. For several years, she ended up blaming herself for his death. She was a baby though, when he died. Just thirteen then and still my heart. I adored her, I did. Still do. She was always so beautiful. All the best photographers wanted her as their first choice model, you know,” Leda boasted.

“Sounds like you loved, and still do love Katie, Mrs. Pryor. If I may ask, how old was Katie when she ran away?”

“She was thirteen. I have been distraught for all those years. No one could find my girl. Not the police, or private investigators either. I don’t know how you found her, but know I will always be in your debt for finding my little girl.”

Chris mulled the information over for a bit. “It was pretty simple once I called your sister. Your sister has connections at the hospital here, so she was easier to locate. Rose has been in touch with Katie for eight years or so, she tells me.”

Chris watched Leda for a reaction to his answer. Her one mistake was lying about her husband’s death and her daughter’s reaction to it. How did Leda know Katie blamed herself for her father’s death for years if she ran away soon after he died?

“I think Rose is a little off on her numbers,” Leda chuckled. “Rose always was a little flighty.”

“I hear you other sister, Grace says she has been in touch with Katie for as long as Rose has. But no matter, we will have to see what transpires tomorrow. You have a good sleep. If you need anything, be sure to tell the nurse on duty tonight,” Chris said. He noticed a picture of an adorable young girl at Leda’s bedside. The girl was adorned in an evening gown. Chris pointed to the photograph. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yes, that’s my Katie. She was in the auditions for the Raymore catalogue. She always looked older than she was. Wait until you meet her, then you will see how beautiful she is.” Leda tried to move herself further up on her pillows and moaned. “Doctor, can you please help me and push my pillows down a little?” Leda pleaded.

Chris did as Leda asked. “I will see you tomorrow after I have spoken to your daughter.”

“Oh, thank you, doctor. You are too kind. Good man you are, just like my Clark was, God rest his soul.”

Something about Leda’s manner did not sit right with Chris. She was trying too hard to impress him. What was she hiding? Chris lay awake for hours trying to decipher the family history at hand. Leda was hiding something, and Katie was avoiding something different. What occurred to Chris was both of them had something they did not want him to know. Why did he care, he wondered. Chris knew from medical records that Leda had a history of prescription narcotic abuse, and drank to excess. How far back, he wasn’t sure.

Rose had mentioned something about Katie not having her father around for several years before he died. She also spoke briefly of Katie being resentful of her mother’s neglect. Rose seemed reluctant to comment too much on the family history, and told Chris he needed to get the information he sought from Katie. This situation was not like any he had ever dealt with in his career. No other patient had ever kept him from blessed slumber, but this one had him troubled. Somewhere in the wee small hours of the morning, Chris fell into a fitful slumber. The photograph of Katie invaded his every thought and his dreams.


After Katie hung the phone up, she paced the floor of her cozy apartment, mulling over the conversation with Dr. McNamara. The more she thought about it, the more she felt the old grudges welling up in her mind. How dare that woman ask for her help after all she put her through, Katie thought. She made a glass of warm milk and turned the television on to distract herself. An hour or so later, Katie fell asleep on the sofa watching an old black and white western.

The next morning Katie woke with a dull headache. She knew intuitively from experience the doctor would bombard her with repetitive questions about her past. Questions like, ‘What was your upbringing like?’ ‘What did your mother do that was so horrible?’ ‘What did your father do to make you hate him so much?’ The afternoon proved Katie right.

Chris settled back in his chair and studied Katie. “Why do you have this lack of concern for your mother, Miss Pryor,” Dr. McNamara asked.

“It’s Putter, and if you had been through what I have with her, you would understand, doctor. I am not obligated to discuss my life story with you. I think we are wasting our time here. Now if you don’t mind, I have a class to attend.” Katie replied.

“Listen, Miss, we here at St. Thomas have no time for games,” Chris snapped at an impassive Katie.

Did she not realize he had no interest in wasting time? Why was she so cold to this woman who seemed so alone and desperate? Katie was nothing more than a beautiful, but spoiled 25-year-old in his eyes. He was not some intern who earned by the hour – he was a surgeon, for pity sake.

“I don’t know what we are trying to accomplish here, but I’m not about to help your patient. I don’t care what you have on file as far as her personal information goes, but she’s no longer any parent of mine,” Katie stated, rising from her seat.

“Listen, Miss Pryor, er, Putter, the long and short of it is your mother cannot stay here much longer, and we have nowhere to send her but home. In my opinion, you are obligated to do something as her sole relative contact.” Chris thought he had her there.

“I am not willing, in any form, to care for that woman. In my opinion, I am not obligated to do anything, Dr. McNamara. Please, have a good day.”

Katie turned to leave, but Chris was fascinated by this particular conversation and he wanted closure on this case. What was more, Chris needed Leda out of his way. Chris wanted to see this case to the end, and Katie was a mystery he wanted to solve. This young woman had his interest despite her hostile attitude. She was attractive and educated, and Chris felt compelled to know more about her and her past. Chris found himself oddly captivated by Katie.

“Wait, please,” Chris said. “I do not have anyone else to call for your mother, and no one who will take her in. Can we not come to some sort of agreement?”

Katie was not backing down. “I can’t tell you what to do with your patient, but I would not wrack my brain over her. She is not a nice person, and has not made or kept many friends through the years. She and I have never seen eye to eye, and there is no love loss there, I assure you. You will be unlikely to find someone willing to care for Leda Pryor.”

Chris was floored to hear such candid words from Katie. She seemed too closed off to expose her feelings in the frank way she just had. If he could get Katie to open up more, he may be he would get through to her after all. “Do you not think Leda deserves some care? She is now an invalid. I don’t know where to turn with this case but her family, Miss Putter. I need your help here”

“As I said, I don’t know where you can turn with her, but I will tell you it’s not with me. I have been done with that woman for a dozen years plus. Try her sisters or a distant cousin.”

“Mrs. Pryor asked for you in specific. How about this, Miss Putter, if you agree to oversee her at-home care, we can send her home with 24-hour nursing care. There would be minimal cost through government plans. You will not have to be at her home most of the time. However, you will have to sign papers for the day and night shifts as they come and go. Having to sign all those papers means you will need to meet with her staff three times a day at her home. Would this be acceptable to you and your husband?”

Katie sighed, expressing her annoyance. “There is no husband to debate with. It is my decision alone. Is it not your place to find a solution? What happens if I refuse?”

“Your mother will have no choice but to be released into a homeless shelter. There, they can provide skeletal care, such as meals. No more. Her bathing, dressing and bandages will be her responsibility, which she cannot do on her own. She has a leg brace to keep the ruptured bone in place and cannot walk. We are looking at another two months before she is partially mobile.”

Katie was fighting her inner demons. She was a woman of good faith and love, but dare she expose herself to that woman again? Could Katie be so close to a woman who almost destroyed her and still maintain her sanity? Could Katie resist the urge she had harbored for years to rid herself of the woman who almost broke her spirit? “Listen, doctor…”

“Please, call me Chris.”

“Listen, doctor, don’t get me wrong, I am willing to help almost anyone, but there are reasons you will never understand that come into play here. Leda Pryor is poison, and I will have nothing to do with her. Have a nice day, and good luck.”

Katie stepped into the outer office, but Chris wanted his answers, and followed. Chris pulled on Katie’s sleeve, turning her to him. “Please, can we discuss this somewhere besides my stuffy office? I do want to understand your point of view. I know sometimes things are not as they seem, and I want to know if I am making a misjudgment. I am a man of reason, and mean no disrespect to you.”

Katie watched Chris and listened to him make his plea and wondered if he could be one of them – the good people. “Fine. Meet me at Gracie’s Café on Main Street tomorrow at 4pm. I will be off work then and we can talk, but don’t expect miracles. Know this right now; I do not swallow bullshit, and I do not tolerate fools at all. Cliché? Call it what you will, but it’s me. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it. See you then, Miss Putter.”

By noon the next day, Chris was miserable with anticipation. He never felt the same anxiety any time in his life. He wanted to see Katie more than he wanted answers about Leda. Katie had an aura about her he admired already, despite her cool, almost arrogant manner. The main desk paged just after 2 pm, and hearing the overhead call, Chris responded immediately.

“Hello, Dr. McNamara speaking.”

“Hello doctor. This is Katie Putter. I’m sorry, but I cannot make our appointment today. I’m afraid I have to work until six this evening. Can we meet tomorrow at the same time?”

Chris’ heart sank. “Can I meet you somewhere near your work? I will drive wherever it is to meet with you. You must understand, I have to close this case, Leda’s discharge is tomorrow.”

Katie was already exhausted. “Whatever. Meet me at the Café at six then.”

Chris’ heart leapt in his chest. “I know the place well. I will see you at six,” Chris said, grinning. The afternoon went by at a snail’s pace for Chris…

Release date – December 31st, 2014

 Other books by this author:

* Amazon Profile, where you can find all my published works

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I would like to thank the love of my life, Wayne, without whose support I would have never finished this, or any other book.  Without him, this story would never have been told.

I would also like to thank my sweet daughter, Stephanie, who has been a major supporter, and my bestest fan.

I love you both with every fiber of my being.


About the author:

Live, love, laugh, then love some more!  = My motto.

I am a writer and research analyst, living in the great Canadian Northern wilderness with my hubby and ‘psycho’ dog, Tucker.  My specialty is in Ancient History.  (Both romance and historically accurate).  I have several novels in the works at the moment.  (When writer’s block halts one, it’s always good to have another to jump into!)  I also have a planned outline for a historical series, geared to youth, teaching them about the Bronze Age, while entertaining them.


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Posted by on January 15, 2015 in New Releases


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