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Authors: Keta Diablo
Holding on to Heaven
HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN
By
Keta Diablo
Copyright 2011 by Keta Diablo
Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2011
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
What reviewers are saying about
Holding On To Heaven
★★★★★
"A wonderfully written story with a vast collection of characters that everyone can relate to, from ones who like love stories to people who prefer war-time stories. Another fine example of how Keta Diablo’s stories can cover many generations of readers."
C.J. Allen, Amazon reader
★★★★★
"As many of you know, I’m a fan of Keta Diablo books. I have to say this is my favorite so far. It basically has two stories in one - Creed/Lauren and Sage/Wanapaya - Twin sisters and neither knows the other exists until fate brings them together."
Book Lover’s Hideaway
★★★★★
"From love and first attraction to war, murder and depravity. Family reunions, devotion and the heartache and love that goes with it. I read this in one sitting, did not want to put it down. HOTH kept me on the edge of my seat. I really enjoyed every aspect of this book. The only draw back for me was when it ended. I think that’s the biggest compliment you can give a story."
Lainy, Amazon reader
★★★★
"Diablo knows how to keep you on the edge of your seat. You’ll wonder what will befall the main characters next. Lovers of historical fiction will love this story! I’m a big fan of the Civil War era and it’s nice to see this as the backdrop.
Holding on to Heaven
has it all -- adventure, desire and the indelible spirit of human hope and perseverance. I enjoyed it and hope this might be the start of a series where we can see some of these characters again! Excellent read! Page turner! Bring on the sequel."
PaperCut Reviews
★★★★★
"Keta Diablo provides readers with a glimpse of pioneer life in the Midwest. HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN is well named and a recurring theme throughout the book. Lauren, one of the heroines is in love with Creed but married to his brother, Brand! I look forward to the sequel, DARK NIGHT OF THE MOON. Diablo is an accomplished, award winning author. Reading her books is a pleasure."
Carolyn, Amazon reader
★★★★★
"The erotic scenes are extremely hot and explicit. Keta Diablo filled the pages in between those erotic pleasures with such thrilling detail that I did not hunger for more. My mind was filled with the passion of the story itself, and that passion was driven from the depths of the characters. Although it is fiction, the time period is depicted true and well, making the fantasy seemingly possible. An absolutely wonderful erotic historical romance."
The Wytch’s Mirror
★★★★
"The non-stop action and memorable secondary characters add to the story's appeal and have me excited for the sequel to HOTH. Yes, I said sequel! This story ends on a very intriguing cliffhanger that has big ramifications and left my jaw on the desk. So lovers of the historical genre can rest assured of being entertained when picking up this book. Just get ready for the toe- tapping you'll be doing waiting for the sequel."
Words of Wisdom from the Scarf Princess Blog/Reviews
* * * *
Buy
Holding On To Heaven
on Kindle:
* * * *
Buy
Dark Night of the Moon
on Kindle
A paranormal Wolf Shifter
(Sequel to
Holding on to Heaven
)
"
My shoes are gone, my clothes are almost gone
I'm weary, I'm sick, I'm hungry."
~
Confederate soldier during retreat
~
Prologue
Winter, 1841
Beaufort, North Carolina
After twelve hours of labor, Clarissa McCain clutched the bed sheets and screamed through her latest contraction. Whatever strength remained in her frail body was completely sapped in the last hour. She'd die before the night was through, and so would her babe.
Evrasina Denzer, the midwife, stood beside the walnut four-poster and lifted her nightshift to check the babe’s progress. Her brown eyes held kindness, her creased forehead concern.
Huddled in a corner of the elegant bedchamber the black servants reminded Clarissa of dusky specters. Their heads bowed, but now and then one would raise her chin and glance at the bed, her black pupils round and wary. Not one Christian prayer would pass through their lips. The primitive race relied on voodoo and witchcraft to cure what ailed them.
Petrie, the daughter of Bessie, the cook at Grand Cove, stepped forward to speak with the midwife. "Mammy says if a woman looks at a full moon in the last days, the child will die."
Evrasina shook her head.
"And if a rabbit crosses her path, the babe be born with a harelip."
With great effort Clarissa lifted her head from the pillow and met her eyes with a lethal glare. Why did they speak of her as if she’d already passed?
"Shush now." Evrasina nodded Petrie back to the corner. "No superstitious nonsense now. Mistress McCain’s pelvis is narrow, nothing more."
Clarissa fell into the mattress again and turned her damp face to the overseer of the house staff, Daphne. She hoped the woman would take a birch branch to Petrie’s back for repeating her mother’s inane ramblings.
A recent conversation between Daphne and Bessie nudged her feverish brain. They had no way of knowing while they discussed the impending birth, she stood in the hallway leading to the kitchen.
‘The midwife can’t save the child, no matter what she do.’ Bessie’s voice.
‘You ought not to listen to fool’s talk,’ Daphne had said.
‘There be dark workings afoot according to the elders, and you ought to heed them.’
Daphne clucked her tongue. ‘White folk don’t take kindly to our beliefs and the elders have been wrong before.’
Clarissa cleared her throat before entering, yet a hushed stillness fell over the room. She pretended she hadn’t heard a word, asked Bessie about the evening meal, and saved her tears for the privacy of her bedchamber.
Another spasm contorted her abdomen. Damnation, she wouldn’t allow their words to shake her faith. Darkies lived their lives by numinous messages sent by their departed ancestors, and she hadn’t been able to convince them to discard their pagan beliefs. She panted through the hard contraction and wondered if she should have insisted on a physician to attend her.
Her husband, Drew, had longed for a child. She would have too, if she could have found a way to avoid the birth. The women in her family had suffered horrendous complications when bringing a child into the world; some had even died. Miss Denzer had assured her she’d attended hundreds of births, relied on the ancient teachings of German midwifery, knowledge and skills passed down from mother to daughter for decades. What did she really know about the midwife? The woman had lived at Grand Cove for three months during her lying-in, and at times, Clarissa accompanied her to the slave quarters to attend the sick and dying. She appeared competent, and the slaves seemed to accept her cures and remedies.
Other than that, she knew only what she saw, a short, slight woman with peppered hair and deep crevices in a nondescript face. Her eyes were brown, her chin strong and her attire tidy and clean. Yes, she’d been stricken by the woman’s confidence, but now, after hours of a punishing labor, she questioned her own judgment in the matter.
When the next crushing spasm ripped through her belly, thoughts of Miss Denzer flew from her mind. Events happened in rapid succession—the midwife’s fingers probing her privates, her compulsion to slap the woman’s face because of the pain, and an unbearable stretching and tearing of her insides.
A lilting chant rang in the room—the midwife—and a prolonged screeching that reminded her of a weasel caught in a trap—her. A blur of wiry, black heads hovered about the foot of the bed, or were they coiled serpents?
Mother of God, I’m delusional.
The midwife had climbed onto the bed and positioned her body between her thighs. Her cold hands twisted and pulled.
Make the pain stop, please make it stop.
Daphne’s voice came to her through a tunnel. "A dark-haired female, as beautiful as her mother."
Evrasina placed the child on her abdomen, turned the infant face up and swept her fingers through her mouth. Clarissa held her breath when the woman turned her over and whacked her gently on the bottom, and screamed when the gray, listless infant failed to breathe or cry. Daphne took the babe from the midwife and disappeared to a corner of the bedchamber.
"Submerge her in water, rub her torso, her limbs, keep trying."
Clarissa put a fist to her mouth and groaned as the fate of her firstborn filled her with numb disbelief. And why hadn’t the contractions stopped? The fingers pushed inside her womb again, the midwife’s words renewing her never-ending nightmare. "Another babe is coming."
Unable to summon enough strength to help the woman, Clarissa collapsed against the mattress and fought the oblivion coming to claim her.
Let me die, please let me die.
The blessed cries of new life resounded in the still room.
Clarissa closed her eyes and the world faded away.
Chapter One
Twenty years later
Grand Cove Plantation
Lauren McCain paced her father's library with diary in hand... her late mother's diary. She’d stop now and then in front of the nine-pane window, her restless gaze fixed on the cobblestone drive below. Her father's carriage should arrive soon.
She had to speak with him before his daily ledgers demanded his attention. He'd stop by the library for a dram of whiskey before rolling up his sleeves, as he did every day for as long as she could remember.
The sound of hooves clanked against the paved stones below. Lauren smoothed the bodice of her dress with her hands, tucked the diary into the folds of her skirt, and waited.
Soon the massive door creaked open and Drew McCain entered with a smile. "I'm happy you're here, Lauren. I was about to ask Daphne where you were hiding this morning."
"I've been waiting for you to return from town."
He crossed the room and planted a kiss to her forehead. "Is there something you want to discuss with me?"
She nodded.
"Very well." He took a step back, dug into the pocket of his overcoat and handed her an envelope. "I have a surprise for you."
"A letter from Aunt Estelle and Uncle Mason!" She took the missive from his hand with a squeal. "What's the news from Minnesota?"
He chuckled. "It's addressed to you, dear, although I admit, I'd love to know what your mother's sister is up to these days."
Lauren cherished her aunt’s letters, missed Estelle and Mason after they left the Carolinas a decade ago. The news from Full Circle would be as stale as last week's bread, but she didn’t mind. She pretended she was the first to hear about Mrs. Tilberry’s calico cat, Bitty, and Mrs. Petter’s orphaned pup, Jocko.