The Maid of Salerno Vi Zettenvall authorriousE*
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means without the written permission of the author. Published by AuthorHouse 02/25/2016
ISBN: 978-1-5049-6992-5 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-5049-6916-1 (e) Library of Congress Control Mother: 2015920913
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Contents
Other books by Vi Zetterwall: January and the Single Heart February and the Single Heart March and the Single Heart April and the Single Heart May and the Single Heart June and the Single Heart July and the Single Heart August and the Single Heart September and the Single Heart October and the Single Heart November and the Single Heart December and the Single Heart
1 The future is not predestined. The universe is not undisciplined. The events that change history occur because one soul stood up when all
others sat down. The seed of greatness is planted in every human being at birth. Many fall on fallow ground and fail to take hold. Some sprout and stand up when happenstance and serendipity find them in the right place at the right time. They seize the moment, but often their deeds are short-lived. Now and then one is nurtured slowly over many years. Through time and hardship, that seed blooms. It grows straight; it grows firm; it grows strong; and a patient universe waits. A golden hue bathed her in soothing warm light. The light surrounded her, enveloped her, calmed her very soul. Somehow she knew she had to make an important decision, but she couldn't quite grasp what was being asked of her. If she could just understand, she could make the right choice... A sharp pounding tore through her reverie, ripping her away from the balmy golden light and into chilling darkness. Cassie shot up, her heart pounding. It hadn't been the scariest dream, yet cold sweat coated her body, trickling down her temples. The thudding in her ears kept her from hearing her grandmother's voice. "Ah, who could that be at this time'a night?" Nana Rose got up from her thin mattress on the low lying cot, her knees cracking, her body wobbling. Cassie was still too disoriented from her dream to be of much help. Fifteen-year-old Cassie was fully awake now. That dream again. The golden light. What does it all mean? she thought to herself. The pounding continued, this time accompanied by shouting. It sounded serious. Clearly someone was in trouble. "Who is it?" Nana Rose stood by the door of their small hut. "Nana Rose, please. You've got to come help. It's Nancy," a man pleaded, his voice frantic, strangled by tears. Cassie couldn't pinpoint
who the voice belonged to, but it didn't matter. Nana Rose had already picked up her bag and was pulling on a shawl. "Hand me my walking stick, girl. We've got to help." Shaking her head to try to clear the muddle from her mind, Cassie threw back her blankets and scrambled up from her modest bed. She clutched the wooden stick her grandmother used to support her ailing body. It was old and polished smooth from years of use. "C'mon, girl." Nana Rose grabbed her arm, and they shuffled out of
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