Brown The Seeds of Sorrow

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62287-667-9
Verlag: First Edition Design Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Wasserzeichen (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 100 Seiten

In The Porter's Wife, Sarah Berry, and her five young children, survived the helplessness and despair of 1901 Manchester, England, after the death of their beloved husband and father before embarking on an arduous and life changing journey. We saw Sarah as a strong woman, steadfast and fiercely determined to see her family right at all cost. Time softened Sarah, as it often does many, but not before her indomitable spirit left an indelible mark on those closest to her.______In The Seeds of Sorrow, it is now the Twenties and Thirties and their world is mired in Prohibition and the Great Depression. It is a tumultuous time, one of upheaval and devastating loss made worse by the lingering effects of the First World War. Few families are left untouched and Sarah's is no exception.______Sarah's daughter Agnes is now married and is similarly fighting for her own family through difficult circumstances. She is as steadfast as her mother, and as relentless in her determination to see her family through their struggles. But a devastating accident, an irreversible singular moment in time, turns Agnes's world upside down and threatens to tear apart all that she holds dear.______Agnes's own spirit, born from the echoes of generations past, holds strong as she fights to keep her family together, but she learns the hard way that happiness can be fleeting and no matter how hard you love, sometimes love isn't enough.______

Autoren/Hrsg.

Brown, Lisa

Leseproben

Chapter 2
  Art and Agnes were on a cloud as they sat in the back of the Model T. The afternoon festivities were already a blur, and their thoughts were now focused on the evening to come. Art whispered into Agnes’s ear, bringing about a girlish giggle. It was a short, ten minute drive and Sam focused on the road ahead, trying to provide the newlyweds with as much privacy as he could. Quickly The Fort Garry came into view, its steep roofline and turrets rising up majestically above Broadway. It was elegant and stately, a stark contrast to the railway yard that lay not far beyond the tree-lined boulevard. While it appeared out of place and out of time, to those who lived in Winnipeg, and even more so to those who had been fortunate enough to have stood in its grand lobby, it was a source of fierce pride and a welcome distraction to the inevitable fallout of war. It was a jewel in the prairie landscape, and it rivaled any hotel in New York or Paris. As Sam pulled the car up to the hotel entrance, the arriving guests were greeted like royalty. A sharply dressed valet helped Agnes out of the car while another took the overnight bag from Art and carried it inside. Sam walked around the car to say good-bye to the blissful couple. “Pa, thank you so much for helping to make this such a glorious day for Art and me. I could not have imagined it any better. And this,” Agnes said pointing to The Fort Garry, “is the best gift in the world.” Agnes wrapped her arms around Sam and kissed his cheek. “You do not have to thank me, my dear. Your happiness is all I need. I hope you enjoy your evening tonight. The hotel car will bring you home, and your mother will have brunch ready. Now I have a yard full of guests to get back to, and you have the beginning of the rest of your lives awaiting you beyond those doors. Congratulations, you two.” Sam shook Art’s hand, gave Agnes one final kiss on the cheek, and was on his way. Art and Agnes entered through the gold and glass revolving door. It was as though they passed into a fairy tale. Inside they stood mesmerized by the grandeur that lay before them. It was the first time they had seen it, and it was a sight to behold. A spectacular floral arrangement, taller than either of them had ever seen, sat gloriously as the lobby’s centrepiece. Its fragrance permeated the room, bringing the presence of an English garden indoors. It was framed by a square of black marble inlayed into the grey marble floor, and it was illuminated by an intricately designed chandelier that glittered from overhead. A valet directed them to the front desk where their overnight bag was waiting. A gentleman, perfectly pressed without a wrinkle, appeared behind the long, marble countertop. “Welcome to The Fort Garry Hotel. May I have your name, please?” he asked of Art. “Certainly. Mr. and Mrs. Art Craig,” Art said as Agnes giggled quietly. Mrs. Art Craig sounded marvelous but so foreign in its newness. The employee flipped through a stack of cards and pulled out their reservation. He scanned it briefly and then excused himself. He exited through a door to his rear, returning with another gentleman. “Mr. and Mrs. Craig, what a pleasure it is to host you on your wedding night. Heartfelt congratulations on the wonderful event,” he offered. “We have a special room selected for you, which I hope will be to your liking. Your dinner reservations are at half-past six in The Factor’s Table Dining Room. Is that time still desirable for you?” Agnes turned to look at the entrance to the dining room, which even from a distance looked magnificent. “Thank you. We look forward to it.” “Excellent. Would you like help with your bag, Mr. Craig?” “No, thank you. I believe I can manage.” Art wanted only to be alone with his bride. Art was handed the key to their room and directed to the elevators, but his wife had something else in mind. “Oh, Art. Let us walk up that magnificent staircase. It reminds me of Amberley House. I was just a girl when I visited, but my memories are as strong as if it were just yesterday. Please indulge me, my darling,” Agnes implored lovingly. “How can I refuse you anything?” Art asked, knowing he couldn’t. It gave him great pleasure to indulge her. Agnes ran her hand up the brass railing as they ascended the staircase. Halfway up she stopped and turned back, looking down at the foyer as though she were the lady of the manor. The look of awe and wonder on his wife’s face grabbed at Art. “My darling, as long as I draw breath I will not stop until I have built you your own castle.” Agnes caressed Art’s arm affectionately. “My castle is wherever I am with you. I have my prince. What more do I need?” Art could do nothing but smile. The brass elevator doors glistened, casting the flawless reflection of a happy couple. It revealed a perfect fluid moment, one whose permanency would only be born in their minds, for reflections are more dreams than etches in time, frames to be stored away in the imagination of one’s life and remembered in some exalted form as the years bear down. Agnes noted the reflection and acknowledged her blessings. As the door to the room opened, both felt a surge of nervous excitement. What lay beyond was irreversible. Their commitment to each other would soon become eternal. Until then they were husband and wife in name and ceremony only. Agnes gasped as she walked into the room. It was a suite fit for royalty. They were overcome by the massive living room, with its ten foot ceiling and elaborately draped window. “They must have made a mistake. I doubt this was the room that Sam and your mother intended. I can’t even imagine the cost.” A formal dining table sat directly in front of the window. On it was a bottle of sparkling cider that was chilling in an elegant, crystal ice bucket. Beside it was a tray of strawberries, which had been drizzled with sumptuously rich, chocolate swirls. “Look, Art. If it was a mistake, this would not be here,” Agnes said full of hope. She did not want to give up this grand room. There was a note, which Agnes took out of the envelope and read aloud. Mr. and Mrs. Craig, congratulations on your marriage. We hope you enjoy your stay with us. Sincerely, the staff at The Fort Garry Hotel. “Well, that does it then. It couldn’t possibly be a mistake,” Art conceded. “Let us have some cider and strawberries. How utterly decadent and exciting,” Agnes gushed. Agnes picked up a strawberry from the tray and held it up to Art’s mouth. He took a bite and then held Agnes’s hand to her own mouth. She took a slow, sensuous bite and as she swallowed, Art pulled his wife forcefully against him, making her swoon. “Perhaps we can skip dinner and just have the dessert. What do you say?” Art asked playfully. “Patience, my darling. Dinner is part of our wedding gift, and they would be disappointed if we didn’t enjoy it too.” Art acted wounded, as though an arrow had just pierced his heart. “I suppose we have waited this long. What're a few more hours?” Art pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket and wiped it off with the towel. As he untwisted the metal caging from the cork, Agnes’s excitement mounted. With the loud pop, Agnes shrieked and then laughed. The cork hit the ceiling and then landed in between the two of them. Agnes picked it up and placed it in her purse. Art poured the cider, bubbles overflowing onto the table. Art handed his bride a glass, and they both held up their glasses as he said a toast. “To the most magnificent bride who has ever walked this earth. I love you with all my heart, and I promise to be your prince, to take care of you, to make you happy, all the days of our lives. And I won’t forget about that castle either,” he said as he winked at his bride. Agnes laughed at Art’s light-heartedness. She so loved his sense of humour. “And I promise to love you back, to make you deliriously happy, and to keep our castle sparkling clean.” “Cheers,” they both said as they clanked their glasses in unison. The bubbles brought tears to Agnes’s eyes. “I am hungry. I could eat this entire tray of strawberries.” “I am hungry as well,” Art teased as he pulled his wife into him again. He placed his glass on the table and then cupped his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her passionately. “Is it just me or is it getting warm in here?” Agnes said as she started to fan herself with her hand. Art filled Agnes’s glass again. “This will cool you down. Let’s pretend we are in Paris and this is real champagne, not sparkling cider, and we are celebrating as we should. The French would never conceive of the notion of banning alcohol. How utterly preposterous.” Agnes nodded. It made no sense to her either. Free will and the right to choose was...