I'm a native New Englander. I grew up in the sleepy shoreline
community of Madison, CT. After graduating from high school in the late 80's, I
headed out West and spent a wonderful six years living in, exploring, and
getting lost in the deserts of Arizona. After earning my B.S. from Arizona
State University, I headed back East trying to find my path in life.
I found myself trying out MANY different careers. I learned the
art of audio engineering and worked at a major recording studio in Manhattan
for a while. I learned the nuances of fine wine from a wonderful South African
man and sold libations in his high-end store. I sold power transmission
equipment as a manufacturer's rep in the Northeast. Next I ventured into the
publishing world when I signed on with Yankee Magazine working in their
Community Partners Program. It was here at Yankee's headquarters in Dublin, NH
that I fell in love with the art of writing and beauty of the Great North Woods
of New Hampshire. I met tremendous people and embarked on my own quest to write
an engaging mystery novel set in New England. However, I couldn't ignore the
internal pull I felt to work with young people. I went back to school and earn
a Masters of Education degree and embarked on a career as a special education
teacher working primarily with autistic children. This has been my main
profession for the past 14 years as I continued to write and work towards
mastering the craft of writing. I love the creative process of writing and
editing.
In short, I'm a life long learner who continues to absorb all I
can about the world around me.
Blurb:
Family
roots, teachings, and tradition permeate Darby Weeks’s existence despite a two
decades old decision to walk away from a life of privilege. They have given him
the courage to survive under impossible conditions, but the most challenging of
them all comes from an unexpected place: his return home. As heinous crimes
peppered with riddles begin to plague the North Country, Darby's reappearance
back home sparks an old rivalry between two families, releasing an evil to
wreck vengeance upon everything around them. Darby's proposal of a truce
between them not only fails to appease the rival family’s thirst for
retribution; it fuels it. And the town of Bretton Woods lies between the two
when old passions ignite and set forth new determinations to win an old
struggle.
Reunited with an old flame and guided by a pompous blowhard, Darby sets out on a journey to learn the truth about his family’s past and their ancient blood feud with a ruthless industrialist. Darby’s quest leads him all over New England, from the rare books library at Dartmouth College to Author’s Ridge - the final resting place of the literary greats Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Emerson. Darby discovers family he’s never known and an insidious danger lurking in the arms of a rekindled love.
Reunited with an old flame and guided by a pompous blowhard, Darby sets out on a journey to learn the truth about his family’s past and their ancient blood feud with a ruthless industrialist. Darby’s quest leads him all over New England, from the rare books library at Dartmouth College to Author’s Ridge - the final resting place of the literary greats Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Emerson. Darby discovers family he’s never known and an insidious danger lurking in the arms of a rekindled love.
Where to Buy:
Excerpt:
The talus deposits at the base of the cliffs should have
forewarned me of the dangers lying just ahead, but instinctively I continued to
hurtle headlong, straight into the past. The glacier-carved notch was the
unofficial southern doorway into the North Country, a stalwart obstacle regulating
access to invading flatlanders. I gazed at the scree and wondered if I had made
the right decision to return. My thoughts wandered like the snaking road ahead
of me while one of my favorite quotes from Katherine Anne Porter weighed
heavily on my consciousness. Although I knew where to physically find Bretton
Woods, ‘the past is never where you think you left it.’
My driver recounted the history of Franconia Notch as we
traversed the mountain pass. A pre-dawn rain had scoured the shear walls,
leaving them glistening and flowing with tears disguised as falling cataracts.
They wept for me, matching the pain that gnawed inside of me. Unsure what the
future held, I knew the answers would be waiting for me in the Great North
Woods.
“Are you from the North Country?” the driver asked.
“I was born up here…against my will, but I haven’t been back
in a long time.”
“Well nothing really changes up here so it will probably
feel like you never left.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“I’ve spent my whole life living up here in God’s country
and I never could think of living anywhere else,” the driver added. “You said
you’re originally from Bretton Woods, did yah?”
“My family was from there.”
“Funny, I know just about every brood in Carroll County, but
I never heard of the Weeks clan. Is that your father’s surname?”
“No, it was my mother’s maiden name. She thought it would
make things easier for me as a child if I wasn’t associated with my father or
his family and the expectations that went along with it.”
“Did it help yah?”
“Barely,” I said, chuckling to myself, “but I escaped as
soon as I was old enough to join the Navy.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what was your father’s last
name?” the driver pressed on.
I thought about lying or maybe using a more common Québécois
surname like Gagnon or Tremblay, but I wanted the driver’s pestering questions
to end so I told him the truth. “Stickney,” I announced while continuing to
look out the window.
The car swerved, nearly sideswiping the guardrail and coming
dangerously close to propelling us into Echo Lake. The driver regained his
composure and command of the limo. He looked at me through the rearview mirror
with eyes as wide as the divide between a rich man and a beggar. He couldn’t
believe I was the one and I couldn’t believe I had finally told the truth for
the first time in my life.
And so it begins. This is my confession.
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