Hi all, keeping warm? Allow me to say with all the energy I can muster...I WANT SUMMER! The cold has not let up...every morning, windshield of -39C...and not much of a break during the day. *Shiver*
OK, on to warmer things, in the form of love and romance. See? It's warmer already.
On to the Handfasting!
Blurb
Ten years had passed since they had joined hands in
the ruins of the old abbey church. Standing before the high altar, they were
handfasted in the Celtic custom, engaged to be married.
A rose bush had bloomed beside the ruined altar.
Stephen had reached out to caress one of the flowers. "I'll find you,"
he had said. "In ten years, when we have finished school, when we are able
to marry, I'll find you. Until then, whenever you see a yellow rose, remember
me. Remember I love you."
In those ten years, Katherine had finished college,
completed med school, and become a doctor. For a decade, she had been waiting,
hoping, praying, and, today ─ her birthday─ she finds a vase of yellow roses
when she reaches home.
Stephen, though, is not Katherine's only suitor.
Bill Wilson has known her since they were in high school. He has long planned
to wed her, and he finally decides to stake his claim. His methods leave a lot
to be desired, the conflict turns vicious, and Katherine must choose the future that she wants. (Excerpt up next! Read on...)
August 1967
Theirs
was the only room on the third floor of the small hotel, so no one noticed when
they walked, hand in hand, down the short hallway. Katherine had never done
anything quite like this before, and her hand shook as she took hold of the
rail at the top of the stairs. She looked at Steven and smiled nervously as he
squeezed her hand in reassurance.
Small
lights gleamed on the landing below, but the stairs were dark, her steps
unsteady, and she stumbled twice on the way down. Steven was holding her arm,
though, and he caught her each time she tripped. They stopped as they reached
the hotel’s front door.
“Are
you all right?” he whispered.
“Fine.
It’s just dark.” She hugged him. “Really.”
“You
have the key?”
She
reached into a pocket and pulled out the ring that held both the key to their
room and the one to the hotel’s door. “Got it.”
They
opened the door and slipped out into the darkness. Even though it was summer,
the night air was cold and Katherine pulled her sweater around her, tightly.
Only in Scotland, she thought, would she need a sweater in August. It was just
after midnight, and the small Scottish town was effectively closed for the
night. Their hotel was dark, except for a light in one room on the second
floor. The other hotel, directly across the street, was also dark.
They
turned to the left and walked down High Street toward the central plaza. They
passed two pubs, one on each side of the street, both closed. Farther down, a
third one, the Golden Lion, appeared to be open—lights were visible through the
window at least. Katherine thought it unlikely that many patrons were still
inside. If so, they were surely sipping their last pints for the evening.
They
reached the plaza, the one part of town that was brightly lit. It was
surrounded by shops—a candy store, a shop that carried Scottish woolens, two
cafés, and one filled with what Katherine called tourist junk—stuffed
Nessies, t-shirts with cute slogans, tartan ties, plastic swords, anything that
might induce a tourist to part with a few pounds or dollars.
The
Mercat Cross, the ancient symbol of royal authority, stood in the center of the
plaza. Some fifteen feet high, it had occupied the same spot in the center of
town for over five hundred years, witnessing the town’s gradual change from a
place of pilgrimage, to a bustling market town, to the tourist attraction that
it had become in recent years.
The
tourists came to see the ruins of the great abbey, much as the pilgrims in
centuries past had come to see it in its glory. Katherine and Steven were going
to the abbey, tonight.
High
Street ran through the plaza and they continued for two more blocks before
turning left on the B road that ran toward the ruins. The buildings blocked the
lights from the plaza and they had to watch
their steps to stay on the sidewalk
that ran beside the narrow road. Since it was late, there was no traffic—if a
car should come speeding along, the driver would be as surprised to find them
on foot, as they would be to see the car.
The
walkway ended abruptly and they stepped off onto the grassy shoulder.
When
Katherine looked up, she could see the stars. She had been in Scotland for
almost six weeks and this was the first time she had seen them. Perhaps it was
a good omen.
Ten
minutes later, they reached the abbey. The floodlights that illumined the ruins
had been turned off and a single streetlight in front of the visitor center
provided the only illumination. A chain hung across the entrance to the abbey
grounds. Few visitors would walk out from town,and since there was no place to
park, other than in the car park, the chain effectively closed the site to
visitors.
Steven
started across the road, but Katherine held back.
The
abbey seemed ominous in the darkness, and Katherine could easily envision that
the spirits of the monks who had once lived within its walls still hovered
about.
Steven
must have felt her hesitate because he squeezed her arm.
Katherine
looked up into his eyes. Coming here had been her idea and she wondered if he
still thought it was a good plan.
“You’re
sure?” she whispered. “You want to do this?”
Steven
nodded and hugged her. “Positive.”
They
crossed the highway, stepped over the chain, and hurried across the brightly
lit lawn, stopping when they reached the shadows of the abbey’s walls. They had
to walk slowly because the ground was uneven and littered with stones, but they
finally reached the side entrance to the abbey’s church.
The
church had held up better than the rest of the abbey. When the abbey had been
disbanded in the mid fifteen hundreds, the church had continued to be used as
the parish church for another two centuries. The walls were mostly complete,
and the stone floor was still in place. A roof and windows were all that would
be needed to make the building serviceable again.
Katherine
switched on a penlight when they entered the church, confident that it would
not be seen by a passing motorist. Walking through the nave and the choir, they
approached the high altar—the altar itself was gone, but the raised platform,
on which it had stood, remained.
To
one side, a yellow rosebush was in full bloom. The fact that it could survive
in the abbey was amazing on its own, that it bloomed each year in August, even
more so. It was said that a sixteenth-century abbot had removed stones from the
floor in order to plant the bush and that it bloomed once each year, on the
anniversary of the last mass said by the monks. Its water source was a mystery.
The yellow rose had been adopted as the symbol of the abbey, and later as the
symbol of the town itself.
Together,
they knelt in front of the space where the high altar had stood. Katherine
unfolded a sheet of paper, placing it on the ground. Steven held the light as
they joined their right hands and Katherine wrapped a purple cord around them.
She picked up the paper, and Steven began to read.
“I,
Steven Andrew Richardson, take thee, Katherine Lee Jackson, to be my betrothed
wife, as the law of the holy Kirk shows, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Katherine
looked into his eyes. “I, Katherine Lee Jackson, take thee, Steven Andrew
Richardson, to be my betrothed husband, as the law of the holy Kirk shows, and
thereto I plight thee my troth.”
A
smile spread across Katherine’s face. She wanted to jump and shout, but she
remembered that they were not supposed to be in the abbey. She put her arms
around Steven and squeezed as hard as she could.
He
hugged and kissed her in return. “We are engaged now?” he whispered.
“According
to Celtic custom we are. I am bound to you forever, unless you release me. You
are bound to me.”
They
knelt in silence and she whispered a prayer, asking that they would be able to
carry out the plans they had made. When she had finished, she raised her head
and looked at Steven. Her eyes followed his toward the rosebush. The moon had
risen behind the abbey and its light streamed through one of the small round
windows on the side of the nave, falling on a single rose at the end of an
especially long cane.
He
reached out and pulled the rose toward them. The fragrance was sweet, reminding
Katherine of a perfume that had once been her favorite.
“Whenever
you see a yellow rose, Katie, think of me.” He said quietly. “Every time you
see one, remember that I love you.”
Steven
released the rose and took her hand in his. “Everything will work out. You’ll
see.”
After
another minute, he helped her to her feet and they retraced their steps to the
entrance. A light raked across the door just before they reached it, and he
peered around the wall.
Two
police officers stood at the chain, shining lights around the ruins.
“They
couldn’t have seen my light,” she whispered.
“Just
a routine check. If they had seen the light, they would have come in.”
After
several minutes, the officers drove away. Katherine and Steven hurried down the
road and returned to town.
The
police car was in the plaza as they turned onto High Street.
“Good
evening, Officer,” Katherine said as they passed.
“Good
evening, ma’am. It’s a bit late for a stroll.”
“We’re
going in now, Officer. Good night.”
“Good
night, ma’am.”
Reaching
the hotel, Katherine looked back down the street. The officer was still
watching them. She inserted the key, opened the door, and carefully, they
climbed the stairs.
Reaching their room, they changed
clothes and kissed good night. Then, as they had for the past two weeks,
Katherine lay under the covers, Steven on top. He put his arm around her and
they slept.
Let us take a moment to find out more about the author, David Burnett.
Author Biography
David Burnett lives in Columbia South Carolina, with his
wife and their blue-eyed cat, Bonnie. The Reunion, his first novel, is set in
nearby Charleston. The Handfasting is his second novel. While most of the events
in the story take place in New York City, psychologically, the story is set in
the rural South of the 1970’s.
David enjoys traveling, photography, baking bread, and the
Carolina beaches. He has photographed subjects as varied as prehistoric ruins on
the islands of Scotland, star trails, sea gulls, and a Native American powwow.
David and his wife have traveled widely in the United States and the United
Kingdom. During one trip to Scotland, they visited Crathes Castle, the
ancestral home of the Burnett family near Aberdeen
David has graduate degrees in psychology and education and
previously was Director of Research for the South Carolina Department of
Education. He and his wife have two daughters.
David was so kind as to provide us with a character interview. I suggest you settle down with a good cup of tea and read on...
Interview
with Katherine Jackson from The Handfasting
Hi, Katherine,
it’s nice to have you with us, today. Tell us a little about yourself. That
accent of yours tells me that you are from the South.
It’s
good to be here. You’re correct. I have spent most of my life in the South. I
grew up in Hamilton, Virginia. It’s a small town near Richmond, and the
Jacksons have lived there for generations. Actually, I still call Hamilton home
and my family – my parents, brother, sister, aunt, and several cousins - still
live there. I suppose that I’m related to half of the town! That’s what it’s
like in small Southern towns, and even though it’s nineteen seventy-eight, not
a lot has changed.
But you live in
New York City?
That’s
right. I attended the University of Virginia and, then went to medical school
at Emory University, in Atlanta. After residency, I took a position as an ER
doctor at a hospital in New York. I share an apartment with Becky and Sarah, my
two best friends from college.
A pretty girl
like you – you surely must have a boyfriend.
I
do. His name is Steven, Dr. Steven Richardson. He has a PhD in art history from
Oxford, and he is a curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Did you meet in
New York?
No,
we met a little over ten years ago. It was the summer after I completed high
school. I spent that summer traveling around in Europe, mostly in England and
Scotland. Steven was there, doing the same thing. We traveled together quite a
bit, hiking from town to town, visiting castles, churches, ruins. During that
time, we fell in love. One night – we were in Scotland at the time – we went to
the ruins of an old abbey church and were handfasted.
Handfasted? What
is that?
Handfasting
is an old Celtic engagement ceremony. We agreed to marry. The only problem was
that Steven was spending the next year in Italy, studying art. I had four years
of college ahead of me, then medical school. It was just impossible.
What did you do?
We
were in the church. Off to one side, a rose bush was growing beside the ruins of the altar. Stephen reached out
and caressed one of the yellow flowers. Then he turned to me. – I remember this
so clearly - “I’ll find you,” he told me. “In ten years, when we have finished
school, when we are able to marry, I’ll find you. Until then, whenever you see
a yellow rose, remember me. Remember I love you.”
I thought about his promise almost every day
for the next decade. Last August, on my birthday, Becky and
Sarah had taken me out to celebrate. When we arrived at home, there was a vase
of yellow roses. I knew they were from Steven.
So you got back
together.
I
met him for dinner a couple of days later. I was so nervous! I mean, I had not
seen him for ten years, I wasn’t even certain that I would recognize him. Once
we began to talk, though, it was as we had been apart for only a couple of days
rather than for ten years. We gave ourselves six months – until next week,
Valentine’s Day - to decide if we still want to marry. That makes sense,
doesn’t it? Not rushing into it?
That’s so sweet!
And yes, it does make sense to me. What do the folks at home think?
My
mother was concerned at first, but everyone loves Steven, now. I haven’t really
told people in Hamilton exactly how we met. I told you that things don’t change
in Hamilton. They treat women as if it were eighteen
seventy-eight. Some people would call me a tramp if they knew I had traveled around
Scotland with Steven. We didn’t sleep together, or anything, but I can hear old
Mrs. Howard, now. Mark me! Katherine
Jackson will come to no good. Running around England with that man. I’ll wager
she never spent a single night alone. In Hamilton once a rumor starts,
well, you’re marked for life.
They can’t be
that bad.
Every
bit that bad. Once, last fall, Steven and I were at the theater and some
television program was filming a segment about the Broadway theater. People in
Hamilton saw us, and Steven had his arm around me. Even my mother called to ask
what we were doing!
Are you going to
marry Steven? Or is there another guy in your life?
Of
course I’m going to marry him! There’s no other guy…Well, there is one. I’m not
interested in him at all, but he tells everyone in Hamilton that he’s going to
marry me. He has said that for years. His name is Bill Wilson. He is really a
jerk. Last week, Steven was in Richmond for a meeting. Bill cornered him at a
reception. My dad told me that Bill was drunk and that he started yelling at
Steven, telling him that I was his girl and that Steven should keep his hands
off of me.
Gosh!
It
really sort of frightened me when I heard about it. He can be violent, you
know. Once, when we were in high school, he tried to assault me.
You’re joking.
Not
at all. I broke two of his ribs as I fought with him.
He
called me the other day and asked if he could come to New York to visit. He
wants to talk, he said. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know why he would
even think that I’m interested in him. I’m meeting him this afternoon after
work. I’m afraid of what he might do when I tell him to leave me alone, but,
anyway, I suppose that I can put up with him for a couple of hours.
Katherine, I
have enjoyed talking with you, today. I hope you and Steven are very happy
together.
Thank
you so much. I am sure that we will be.
Wonderful! Thank you so much for this interview, David.
Here are just a few excerpts from the praise and reviews The Handfasting has received:
"...it was as if I knew these
people personally as I was so immersed into the book. I formed a real picture
of them in my head and I was sad to lose them when the book finished."
"The
book is filled with really tender moments that made me sigh with contentment
and truly tragic ones that brought horrified tears to my eyes. In The
Handfasting Burnett has written a romance as daunting as real life that
still delivers in the end."
"This story is so touching, so emotional and so
real, that it cannot help but touch you. It deals realistically with some
really difficult and sensitive issues and Burnett handles it all with just the
right touch. I absolutely recommend this book."
"I wasn't sure what to
expect from this book. I had read up about handfasting and thought it might be
some overly slushy romantic novel. How very wrong I was. Yes there was romance,
but there was a mix of crime, heartache and despair.
Once I started reading this,
I just couldn't put it down. I fact I continued reading until 3am as I was
hooked!"
"I want to say that
when men write an outstanding romance novel, I am always blown away. I realize
that sounds really sexist, but permit me this leeway. When I consider romance
novels, I always think of women. I tend to associate men with thrillers,
mystery, and often an inordinate amount of profanity. David Burnett writes a
romance story with dynamic characters and a storyline that will keep you
guessing."
Now, if any of you are interested in either contacting David or purchasing his novel, well then these links are for you.
Purchase
links:
Amazon
U.S.
Universal
Amazon url
Trailer
Amazon UK
Nook
Nook
UK
Paper:
Amazon
Smashwords
Contact Links
Website: Handfasting
Twitter
Twitter handle
@DavdBurnett
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