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384 pages Publisher Berkley Publication date June 13, 2023
This novel was inspired by actual events using fictional characters. We’ve all heard of the evacuation of British children during WWII but I for one hadn’t heard about the attack and subsequent sinking of a ship carrying evacuees to Canada. The story begins with two women: Alice doing her part by volunteering to escort these children and Lily, a mother making the difficult decision to send her children away to where she’d thought they’d be safer. There was an escort convoy but the problem was the escort ships left before the children’s ship was safe. The parents hadn’t been told they wouldn’t be escorted all the way to Canada. Of course everyone knew it was dangerous but choices had to be made and the best hoped for. One article I read said 15,000 children were killed or seriously injured in Britain during the Blitz.
We see the Blitz on London, travel with the characters to shelters in the middle of the night, nearly every night for a time. It’s understandable that the British people thought their children needed to be sent to somewhere safer. They didn’t know if, like France, they might be invaded by the Nazis.
When the unthinkable happens, Alice and some of the children she is responsible for, along with some other adults, board the last lifeboat to leave the sinking ship. After they realize they wouldn’t be rescued (in real life it took until the next day for a ship to come to the site looking for survivors) they made a plan to sail to Ireland. They had drifted away from the search area and assumed to have not survived. There are storms, ill passengers, too little food and water. The author is so skilled with painting the story that the reader can imagine it all. It’s heart wrenching. There are moments of insanity brought on by too little nourishment and sleep. There is nothing they can do to help the sick. But there are wondrous moments too. Alice retelling the story of Moby Dick to the children to entertain them. A sometimes brunt but charming man named Owen who takes daily swims outside the lifeboat, incredibly beautiful sunrises and visits from curious whales. Alice learns more about herself than she ever would have without this experience and grows to believe in herself and her purpose in life. Lily, back at home, is a recent widow. She must deal with guilt, fear, and depression. Obviously the sinking of the ship with her children on it is devastating and life changing. So much happens in just eight days! There are times in the story where I couldn’t see how they could possibly find healing, but as with other Hazel Gaynor novels, there is hope and a satisfying ending.
Don’t miss the author’s note. This is a part of history that was a failure on the British government’s part but also something that was learned from. So many children (and adults) lost their lives in this attack (Only 13 of the 90 children onboard through the evacuation scheme survived.) and their memory deserves to be preserved. The authors does this with this well-written, intense, and stirring novel. Highly recommended.
Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We are pleased you stopped by today.
Tell us something about where yourself:
My name is Daniel Hawkins. My wife’s name is Maggie, and we have a wee one on the way. We make our home in a modest cabin in Loudoun County, Virginia.
Ah! You have a wife. I enjoy love stories. How did you meet, and how long have you been married?
It seems I’ve always loved Maggie. We grew up as neighbors and attended the same church services as children. When Maggie blossomed into a young woman, I found countless reasons to stop by her home for a visit. She welcomed my company, and soon we became inseparable. Sadly, we were married but a few months when I joined the militia to fight against the British in the spring of 1814.
So you are a soldier? Is that your profession?
I was a farmer by trade before joining the militia. My stint in the army ended prematurely due to a devastating injury that changed the direction of my life entirely.
I’m sorry to hear that. How was your life altered by your injury?
I returned home a broken man, having lost my will to try or even live. Farming was no longer an option, so I withdrew from everyone, including Maggie. I saw no purpose in living and basically gave up for a time.
Sounds miserable. What brought you out of such a slump?
I credit my dear wife’s earnest prayers, along with my brother-in-law, Jonathan’s, tenacious attempts to pry me from my self-pity. On a trip into town, the Lord began to stir my heart to renewed purpose. I noticed a wooden cradle in the store that would have been perfect for our coming child. As Christmas neared, I wished to surprise Maggie with it. But money was scarce, so I gave up the notion and decided instead to try my hand at fashioning one myself.
Wow! But you said you were a farmer. Did you have any sort of carpentry skills?
I come from a family of whittlers and carvers. As a boy, I watched my father carve and build, but never really caught interest in trying the craft myself. But I had inherited my father’s carving tools which had been passed down to him from his uncle Silas. When I mentioned the idea of building a cradle to Jonathan, he was all for it and agreed to supply the wood.
That’s great. And did your cradle turn out well? Did you carve anything else?
I shall leave that for readers to assess and discover as they delve into my story, A Lasting Legacy.
Sounds good. What have you learned about yourself in the course of your story?
That on my own strength, I am nothing. The Lord is the Master Craftsman of my soul. He alone brings strength, purpose, and healing to our lives. We only need look to Him in our time of need, and He will supply what we need. Instead of giving up, we must look up to our Heavenly Father.
Wonderful insights for us all. Thanks for allowing us to get know you a little better, Daniel!
About: A Lasting Legacy is one of four novellas included in Chiseled on the Heart Christmas Novella Collection: A Christmas Legacy Novella Collection
The Gift of a Lamb by Elaine Cooper
In 1776, 14-year-old Charlotte Hawkins and her brother, 10-year-old Elias, are still grieving the death of their parents. Their parents left instructions to be sent from their home state of Virginia to live with relatives they barely know, in Connecticut. The trip was dangerous, as war raged between the Redcoats and the Americans. To make matters worse, the churches in Connecticut don’t celebrate Christmas at all. Will this be the orphans’ worst Christmas ever?
A Lasting Legacy by Cynthia Roemer
Loudoun County, Virginia, 1814. After a disabling injury sends Daniel Hawkins home from war, he struggles how to provide for his young wife, Maggie and the child she’s carrying. As Christmas approaches, he finds a sheep his grandfather carved and attempts to carve a nativity set for Maggie. When she goes into labor during a Christmas Eve blizzard, Daniel is forced to face his feelings of inadequacy. And perhaps learn that God has a plan for his life after all.
Healing within the Pieces by Candace West
Prison shackles haunt Nathaniel Hawkins upon his return home only to discover it occupied by a woman in hiding. Bad men are no strangers to Delia Evans, but the intruder who barged into the farmhouse shrinks from her. With no other refuge, they must endure each other. But have they misjudged? When the past shadows their doorstep, is a grudge worth the price of a man’s life?
The Christmas Carving by Kelly Goshorn
Wyatt Hawkins dreads Christmas. Memories from the fatal shooting of his childhood friend on Christmas Eve, 1864, has left a bitter taste in Wyatt’s mouth toward God, the holiday season, and his former fiancée, Madelyn Cunningham. As Christmas draws near, can the star he’s carving for his family’s heirloom nativity point Wyatt back to the woman he’s never forgotten and the faith he’s left behind?
Author Bio:
Cynthia Roemer is an inspirational, award-winning author who enjoys planting seeds of hope into the hearts of readers. Raised in the cornfields of rural Illinois, she enjoys spinning tales set in the backdrop of the mid-1800’s prairie and Civil War era. Cynthia feels blessed the Lord has fulfilled her life-long dream of being a published novelist. It’s her prayer that her stories will encourage readers in their faith. She and her husband reside on the family farm and will soon celebrate their 30th Anniversary. They have two grown sons, a daughter-in-love, and a spoiled cat named, Chad. Visit Cynthia online at: http://www.cynthiaroemer.com
Merry Christmas 1966 from US First Lady, Lady Bird Johnson
“I’ll start this interview by saying with Lyndon in the White House, my favorite roles as First Lady are decorating the White House Christmas Tree and supporting my national Wildflower Initiative to save America’s native plants and beautify our landscapes. I’m combining those this year by decorating our White House tree with hand-painted wildflower ornaments. Did you like the sneak peek I gave you?”
“Absolutely. You’re outdone yourself and we got great photos. How did you choose the tree?”
“That’s my favorite part. I love a good love story. Don’t you?”
“I’ll say! And so do our readers.”
“Our White House Tree, like the Rockefeller Tree, is chosen through a contest with growers all over the country submitting their trees. This year it boiled down to two neighboring farms in Wisconsin.”
“Neighbors? Imagine the competition.”
“Even more when they’re feuding because one’s Norwegian and the other Swedish.”
“That sounds like a bad movie. I can tell where this is heading.”
“Not this time. This one’s different. The Norwegian’s forestry major niece, Marcy, and the Swede’s financial planner son, Kris, dated in high school and he’d carved their initials inside a heart on the trunk of one tree before they graduated and went separate ways.”
“How sad.”
“But if a romance is meant to be, it works out.”
“You’re right, Mrs. Johnson. So more was going on than raising Christmas trees?”
“Call me Lady Bird, and yes there was.” Her dimples flashed. “But let the young people share their story as they told me. Marcie? Fill our reporter in.”
Marcie: “Sure. Uncle Halvor’s problem with tree blights inspired me to study forestry to find answers. When the blight and his finances reached their worst, I arranged to do my last university semester at home to help. Now Kris should tell you his part.”
Kris: “Gladly. When Dad sent an S.O.S. that he needed me home short-term or our farm could go under, he didn’t say Marcie had come back.” He squeezed her hand. “That was a great surprise. It didn’t take us long to reconnect.”
Marcie: “I’ll say. And then Kris told me about the contests and if we competed to supply the White House Tree, it could increase sales and publicity.”
“Even though you knew only one of you could win?”
Kris: “That was the hardest part. At first I promised myself I’d go back to professional life in New York City if it wasn’t the Lundquist Farms tree. But by then I was loving our small town more than ever—and also a certain special forestry major.” He gave Marcie a quick hug. “Until I finally realized there was something I could do about who won.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcie blushed. “Don’t give it away, Kris. Make them read our story.”
“You’re right.”
Lady Bird: “They’ll love it when they do. And I’ll do even more when you two come see me again after Christmas.”
Kris: “You will?”
Lady Bird: “Yes. You didn’t think the fun would end here, did you?”
Marcie: “Wow. I can’t wait to find out.”
Delores Topliff grew up in Washington state but married a Canadian so enjoys dual citizenship. She teaches Christian university classes online, travels, and published children’s books and non-fiction stories before finding her stride writing historic fiction. Books Afloat, Christmas Tree Wars, Wilderness Wife, and Strong Currents have been published since January 2021. Delores loves her two doctor sons and five grandchildren and divides her year between a central Minnesota farm and the gentle climate and people in Northeastern Mississippi. I used to make fun of snowbirds and now I am one.
Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We are pleased you stopped by today. How will you be spending Christmas in 1942?
There’s a war on, so things aren’t quite as exciting as they once were. I took a lot of leave from my job at RAF Bottesford earlier in the year when my mother died, so I can’t go home for the holiday. I do get to spend the evening with my best friend Grace. She has invited me and some of the men we work with to celebrate with her family.
Any of those men special to you?
Absolutely not! The airmen I work with are dreadful! Don’t even get me started … Except Alec Thomas will be there. I’m trying so hard not to like him, because I’m worried he’s the same kind of man as my ex-boyfriend, who turned out to be a real scoundrel. Alec is incredibly good-looking. You know Clark Gable from Gone with the Wind? He looks just like him, except he’s Australian so when he speaks he sounds more like Errol Flynn might. Grace says I should give him a chance, but I don’t know that I can risk it. He is such a flirt!
So you are in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force?
Yes, but we just call it the WAAF. I joined up in ‘40, as soon as I turned 18. I wanted to do something to help the war effort and preferred air force blue to khaki and brown! Now I’m an officer. I have a little responsibility over the enlisted women, which is daunting when I’m not that much older than most of them.
And you work at RAF Bottesford? What can you tell us about your job?
RAF Bottesford is a heavy bomber station with Bomber Command, which means that our crews fly large aircraft on bombing raids over occupied Europe, mostly Avro Lancasters. It’s dangerous work, but it’s the only way we can take the fight to Hitler right now. We send the men out on night time operations in sub-zero skies, and many times they don’t return. In fact, many of them leave notes on their pillows to be sent to their families in case the worst happens. Despite having sworn off pilots romantically, I can’t deny that what they do is impossibly brave.
I work in the control tower, giving pilots permission to take off and land, and relaying messages from the ground. Mine is the last voice the pilots hear before they fly. I take that responsibility seriously because, in reality, mine might be the last voice they will ever hear.
What will Christmas at RAF Bottesford look like?
Since the new Australian squadron arrived we’ve had terrible weather, but at least that means less flying and more socialising! They’ve held several dances in December already, some people are rehearsing a pantomime and I know the kitchen staff are planning a smashing Christmas dinner with ham and turkey, which is almost unheard of at the moment! I hope there will be seconds! On New Year’s Eve, we’ll go to the dance hall in Grantham. I can’t wait.
What about your family? Will you miss them?
Very much. I only have one sister, Rosie. She’s sixteen and currently at home with our father. I know it’s not really polite to speak about these things in public, but he is grieving my mother so very deeply right now and he has retreated into himself. Rosie only has our housekeeper Mrs. Bickham for company, and although Mrs. Bickham makes the best Christmas gingerbread in all of Warwickshire, she’s a poor substitute for our mother. At least, I’ll have Grace and her family, and all my chums from the WAAF this Christmas.
What about Alec Thomas?
We’ll see what Christmas brings, shall we?
Read about Maggie’s wartime Christmas in Heart in the Clouds, available at Amazon and other retailers.
____________
About the author:
Australian author Jennifer Mistmorgan sometimes feels like she was born in the wrong era. So she writes romantic historical fiction set in the 1940s, against the backdrop of WWII and its aftermath. Her romances are always sweet but sometimes gritty, infused with hard-core historical research, gentle faith and foodish flair. She lives in Canberra with her family and a wonky-eared West Highland terrier. Find out more atjennifermistmorgan.com, or onFacebookorInstagram.
Having run away from home in the summer of 1914 to join the Great War for Civilization, 16-year-old Evan Sinclair managed to cross the country by train, the Atlantic by steamer, and having crossed through France into occupied Belgium, he found himself with the Flemish resistance in the dangerous mission of flooding the lowlands—a singular act that stopped the Germans from reaching the northern ports and turned the tide of the war. Having played a key role in that critical mission, Evan was badly wounded and spent some weeks in a field hospital in northern France. Discharged from hospital, he and other recovering wounded soldiers are being sent back to England by hospital ship.
Ten minutes out of Calais and bound for Dover, the HMHS Austrium pitched on the Chanel swells on a cold morning in late November. Sixteen-year-old Evan Sinclair stowed his gear on the upper berth of a cramped cabin, and grasping the worn handrail, headed up the narrow steel stairwell to the ship’s deck. He stepped to the side as a deckhand descended the stairs and asked, “Y’know where I might find Evan Sinclair?”
“Right here. That’s me.”
The man handed him a piece of paper. “This just arrived for you.”
In the half-light he could make out the words.
NOVEL PASTIMES WISHES TO INTERVIEW EVAN SINCLAIR PLEASE RESPOND
Evan frowned and thought, “What the hell does that mean? Then he called out to the deckhand who had begun climbing back up the steps. “Hey! They want me to respond. How am I supposed to do that?”
“At the wireless office. Come with me.”
Evan followed the deck hand up the stairs and soon found himself on the bridge. There the deckhand nodded at a closed door.
Pushing it open, Evan saw a young man reading as he reclined, feet up on a low desk between a typewriter and a burnished brass telegraphy set. Looking up from his copy of Argosy All-Story Magazine, he asked,“Are you Evan Sinclair?”
“Yes.” He held up the paper. “I believe this came from you. What do you make of it?”
The young man shrugged. “They want to interview you.”
“About what?”
“If you’d like, we can find out right now.” The telegraph operator sat forward and readied his hand over the key-type transmitter. “Shall we?”
“Do you have time for that?”
“For now, I do. There’s nothing in the queue, and they’re waiting for your response at the destination station in London—”
“London? Isn’t that too far away?”
“Not at all—we can transmit wireless over twice that distance.”
“How?”
“Morse code by radio waves. Do you want to do this or not?”
“Sure,” he said and watched as the operator began tapping the brass key. Once he stopped, Evan asked, “What did you transmit?”
“I told them that Evan Sinclair is standing by for the interview with Novel PASTimes.” The operator moved his headphones up from his neck to his ears and reached out to bring the typewriter forward. “They’ll get back to us soon enough and I’ll type out the responses for you—”
Before he finished speaking, Evan could hear the shrill staccato of the Morse code from the operator’s earphones. As he began typing, Evan leaned down and read the message.
WELCOME HOME HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE A HERO
A hero? he thought. Are they referring to what I did to help flood the polders? Evan said nothing for a few seconds while the images flashed through his head—the bright moon over the lowlands, the partisans exposed by the sluice gate, the German machinegun from within the protecting nest of sandbags, firing and firing, smoke from the gun rising in the air, desperate and failed attempts by the partisans to silence it, with pistol, with grenade. He remembered crawling over smooth stones in the mud, trying to reach the dark shelter of the poplars, there the foliage blocked out the moonlight and he was able to stand and hurl smooth stones with his sling into the machinegun nest, again and again, drawing their attention away from the partisans at the sluice gate. And, finally, moonlight shining on rising water as the polders flooded—
The telegraph operator cleared his throat. “Do you want to reply?”
Evan nodded. “Tell them – I’m not sure what they mean.”
The operator tapped out the message, and the reply came quickly, and the young man typed it out.
FLOODING POLDERS KEPT GERMANS FROM TAKING NORTHERN PORTS AND WINNING THE WAR NOW THEY WONT NOT NOW NOT EVER
He knew that was true. The key to a quick German victory was to seize the port cities of northern France and Belgium. But slowed and stopped with the flooding of the lowlands, their progress had ground to a halt. And everyone knew that without a quick victory, Germany would have none. And though the subsequent trench warfare was horrific and grinding, it contained Germany and drew out the war, and a longer war would end in Germany’s defeat.
Which is why I left home to join the Great War for Civilization, he thought. To make a difference. And I did.
He spoke a shortened version of those thoughts to the operator who tapped them out into the wireless radio waves bound for London. After a few minutes the next question came.
THERES TALK OF YOU RECEIVING THE VC
The Victoria Cross? Evan shook his head in disbelief. Britain’s most prestigious decoration? They’d give it to me for throwing rocks at Germans? The ones who really deserve a medal are the Flemish partisans who died at the sluice gate, the ones who actually flooded the polders—Emile Peeters and Hendrik Geeraert.
Evan proceeded to dictate these thoughts to the operator who tapped them out. Evan made sure that he got the spelling of their names right.
After a few minutes the next question came, the shrillness of the code less jarring as Evan was getting used to it. He read the typed transcription.
WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO ONCE YOU GET BACK TO ENGLAND
Before speaking, Evan considered how to reply. I’m pretty sure my dad left Utah to look for me in England. He’s probably back now—at our old house in Oxford. I definitely want to spend some time with him—to mend fences after the way I ran off. And once I’m fit for service I want to get back to the fight, that is, if the war is still going on. But not on the Western Front—I’ll ask for them to send me to Cairo.
Dictating these thoughts to the operator, Evan hoped that his father might hear the news before he arrived at the front door in Oxford. As he waited for the tapping to stop, his thoughts turned to a beautiful young nurse he had met while hospitalized in France. I’d really like to get back there for a quick visit—to see her again—
“Uh-oh!” the operator cut into his thoughts. “I’ve got someone in the queue now. I’ve got to sign out with NOVEL PASTimes, and take this.”
“No problem. I’m glad we’re done,” Evan said as he watched the operator hunch over listening as he typed out the incoming message.
GERMAN U BOATS SIGHTED IN CHANNEL BEGIN EVASIVE MANEUVERS
Evan’s breath caught as the operator grabbed the message and ran out to the bridge, yelling for the captain.
Wireless Telegraphy Communication between ship and shore was by Morse code, as it was for conventional telegraphy. The equipment only transmitted messages for about 300 miles in daylight, although that figure doubled or tripled after dark thanks to the refraction of long-wave radiation in the ionosphere. The wireless operators sending these messages were independent young men of the modern age who had been recruited with the promise of escaping “blind alley careers”. They chatted to wireless operators in other ships in a jaunty, mock public school slang, calling each other “old man”.
Photo of the HMHS Austrium
Michael J. Cooper emigrated to Israel in 1966 and lived in Jerusalem during the last year the city was divided between Israel and Jordan. He graduated from Tel Aviv University Medical School, and after a 40-year career as a pediatric cardiologist in Northern California, he continues to do volunteer missions serving Palestinian children who lack access to care. His historical fiction novels include “Foxes in the Vineyard,” set in 1948 Jerusalem, which won the 2011 Indie Publishing Contest grand prize, and “The Rabbi’s Knight,” set in the Holy Land in 1290. “Wages of Empire” won the 2022 CIBA Rossetti Award for YA fiction along with first- place honors for the 2022 CIBA Hemingway award for wartime historical fiction. He lives in Northern California with his wife and a spoiled-rotten cat. Three adult children occasionally drop by. Learn more at michaeljcooper.net.
Novel PASTimes 