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Reflections From The Riverbank

by Lyal LeClair Fox

151 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0225; ISBN 1-55212-559-9; US$17.00, C$19.20, EUR14.00, £10.00

Two young lovers separated by an unbelievable series of events, during and following the Civil War, spend over fifty heartbreaking years thinking the other had been killed.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book Corey was just a tired old man who wanted nothing more than to be home for Christmas. He had experienced more than his share of sadness and heartache, during his lifetime, and most of it he would just as soon forget. This train ride home, a train ride that would take him back in time, would cause him to live through it all again, and end with a miracle. What happened toward the end of this train ride was more than even Corey could believe. Was it some kind of divine intervention, or the lack thereof, that would explain these strange events? Either way, one thing we can be certain of; they did happen. How or why, no one will ever know. This story was inspired by actual events, so you be the judge.

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About the Author Born and raised on a farm in southern Iowa, Lyal has written books on genealogy, poetry, etc. Verdict of Vengeance was released in 2001 and in another of Lyal's historical fiction novels.

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Sample Excerpt

Rose put the old hat box on her bed and let her body practically drop as she sat down on the bed beside it. Getting the angel in place on the tree; telling Mary Ellen about the love and heartaches of her past; listening to Anna' s amazing story; and the long, tiring walk up the long staircase had just about wore her out, both mentally and physically. She once again took Corey' s picture out of the box, for another look. She gave a long sigh and put it on the night stand by her bed, saying aloud, "I might as well leave you out till after Christmas".

She put the lid back on the box, and with a little struggle getting up, took it back to the closet and sat it in its regular place on the shelf. As she was on her way back to the bed, Anna tapped on the door and asked, "Would you like for me to brush your hair now, Miss Rose?"

"Not tonight," Rose said, wearily, "I' m too tired and not feeling very well. I' m going to lie down for awhile." She laid down on the bed and turned on her side, so as to be able to see Corey' s picture, and talking aloud, but drowsily, said, "Oh! Corey, you' ll never know what I've gone through all these years. I never even told Mary Ellen the whole story tonight. I was never really sure whether you were dead or alive. I thought maybe I saw you one time when I ..."

Her voice trailed off as she drifted into a light sleep. Her mind went back to a day about a year after the war ended. She had been depressed for some time, but that day, the depression was about more than she could bear.

In a relatively short time she had buried her mother, father and sister; their grand old mansion had been destroyed; the slaves were gone and there was no one to take care of the place; she could find no one to plant or harvest crops; she didn' t have the money to fix the place up and couldn' t afford to keep it; she economy of the South was in shambles, and its people had become ruthless and hateful, and there was no one to turn to for help. The one person who might have helped, Corey' s uncle, had died from the injuries he received in the war; the bank was unsympathetic and had enough problems of its own; and if all that wasn't enough, the only man she would ever love had been killed in the war, leaving her, unmarried, and with a young daughter to raise.

She recalled how she had taken that day off from her bookkeeping job at a large retail store there in Waynesboro, got a horse from the livery stable, and rode out to the old, run down plantation. She first went to the little cemetery plot, dismounted, and knelt down in the grass in front of the headstones. She knelt there for some time, as though expecting to find the answer to her problems and depression from the graves. She talked to them as though she expected them to answer. She had been there several minutes before she realized there were fresh flowers on the graves, with a single red rose on Maria' s. She wondered who would have put them there.

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Catalogue Information

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