Dear Gentle Readers,
Last year I was asked to join a wonderful group of inspirational authors to write a serial novel about hope entitled Through the Darkness, Stories of Hope, published by Articulate Communications, Inc.
My story in this book is A Woman Named Hope. It's the story of a little girl growing up in the beautiful southern Italian countryside with her beloved papa and her mother near the family olive groves.
A set of unforeseeable circumstances has the little girl embarking on a new life in America without her parents or any family to watch out for her, with a fistful of fake travel documents, and at the age of eleven, married to a man she does not know, and has no idea what he expects from her.
Amazon Link: Stories of Hope bit.ly/CIMHOpe
Here is an excerpt:
A Woman Named Hope
By
Carol Ann Kauffman
Growing
up on the outskirts of a small town of Colabina in central Italy long ago,
little Maria Theresa Orvienta would walk with her father, Nick, through the
olive groves while he told her stories of his youth. She loved the way the warm
breeze rustled through the silvery leaves of the olive trees, gently singing songs
no one else could hear but her. They sang, “Be happy” and “Life is beautiful.”
They sang of the idyllic small town life, and the importance of trees and
sunshine and love and family.
“You
are doing well in your studies, yes?”
“Yes,
Papa.”
“Your
teacher says you are the star of the class. Your English is perfect.”
“Thank
you, Papa.”
“Mrs.
Lynch is a very good teacher. She is from a very fine family in Cleveland,
Ohio. You need to keep it up. You and me and Mama, we are going to go to
America, very soon I hope.”
“I
don’t want to go across the ocean to live. I like it right here.”
“Maria
Theresa, there is no country like America! The whole world is open to you if
you work hard and keep your nose clean. It is the country of freedom and
opportunity.”
“Mama
says you are having a pipe dream.”
“Sometimes
your mama talks too much. She must keep our plans secret, and so should you. Look
at all these beautiful olive trees. Soon we will have many olives. We will have
olive oil galore. Much money will be made this year. All of my debts will finally
be paid off, financial and otherwise, and we can get out of here.
“I
never wanted to grow olives. I wanted to grow grapes. I wanted to have my own
winery. Maybe someday, I’ll have my own vineyards in America. We’ll make wine.
We’ll call it Lucky Nicky Winery. That’s a lofty dream for a boy who grew up
poor. You know, when I was a child, my parents were so poor that they had to
steal the fruit from the neighbors’ trees at night just to feed us children.”
“Ahh, that makes me so sad, Papa. Were you
always hungry as a boy?”
“No, my little one. Either I felt good or I
felt bad. I didn’t know enough to know the reason why. I ate very little as a
boy. But I make up for it now,” Papa laughed.
“Yes,
you do. Mama says you are getting a tummy.”
“Oh,
don’t listen to her. Men are supposed to be big and broad so they can protect
their families. Who’s afraid of a skinny guy waving a pitchfork? Huh? Nobody!”
Maria
Theresa laughed and nodded. She looked up at her tall handsome dark-curly-haired father
and thought he was the most magnificent man in the world.
“Sometimes we as a family had to run and hide
in the foothills from evil marauders who wanted to do harm to our women and
kill all the men.”
“Are
the evil marauders still around, Papa?” Maria Theresa scanned the area for
movement.
“Yes,
angel, but they have different names and different faces. They don’t roam the
hillsides anymore. But they’re still out there, preying on the innocent, and
stealing what doesn’t belong to them. I think we will always have bad,
power-hungry men in the world. You must learn to recognize evil.”
“Evil
is mean and ugly,” she said with her hands on her hips, with all the confidence
and conviction of an eight-year old.
“No,
honey. It’s not that easy. Sometimes something very bad can look good.
Sometimes evil can look very pretty to us. It does all the right things and says
all the right things, but for all of the wrong reasons. You must learn to trust
what your heart and your soul tell you so you can know the difference.”
Maria
Theresa slipped her hand into her father’s big hand bronzed from the sun. “I’m
scared, Papa.”
“Don’t
be scared. I don’t tell you these things to frighten you, little one. I tell
you so you’ll be armed with the truth. You need to know these things. You
aren’t a baby any more.”
“No,
I’m not,” she affirmed. “I will soon be nine.”
“Trust
your feelings. Don’t let people take advantage of your sweet and gentle nature.
Tell the truth. Lies beget lies. One lie leads to another and another. Know
that, no matter what, God will not desert you. And when things get dark and
scary, never give up the hope that good days will return.”
“Never
give up hope. Okay, Papa. I won’t.”
