For Patrick Doyle, the claim that time heals all wounds is a cruel lie.
In 1920, returning from WWI, Paddy finds Ireland creeping toward civil war. Invisible borders separate people, including Paddy and his pregnant girlfriend. With few prospects, Paddy sails to America. However, America is far from the land of opportunity he’d hoped for. And worse, his girl refuses to follow him because of her political involvement.
Thirty years later, Patrick has moved on with his life, building a new family. A letter arrives, suggesting the child he’d assumed died may be alive. Patrick’s American daughter Mardell pushes him to find out what happened to her sister, named Juniper. Patrick anxiously sails to Ireland.
Juniper endured a childhood in institutions, and when she’s released, she moves on without the parents who left her. Operating an apothecary out of an inherited cottage where villagers are slow to trust outsiders, Juniper finally finds a home when her grandmother arrives. Just as she feels comfortable and content, her father shows up at her door, bringing shocking news about her mother.
Finding Juniper invites readers on a journey of confronting the past, healing from old traumas, and redefining what family truly means.
Welcome to the blog, Juniper. Because of the time period of the novel, you might not know what that is.
Juniper: You said this was an interview. Is that what you mean?
Ah, yes, an interview. Readers would like to know about you, especially if they haven’t read the book.
Juniper: [Gasp!] They haven’t read the book? They must or I will cease to exist.
Don’t worry. You’re real to those who have. Tell us something about your childhood. When were you born?
Juniper: Now you sound like those doctors at St. Giles. I was born on the second of June, 1920, in Dublin, Ireland. My childhood was not happy, but you don’t want to hear about that.
Oh, we do! Happy or not, your story will help us get to know you.
Juniper: [Sigh] It won’t really because I’m a new woman, now. But I’ll tell you a wee bit. I grew up without parents, but I wasn’t an orphan. Ireland in those days, well, things were all upside down. My mother got involved in politics. Long story, but she wasn’t in a right state to raise a child. Things are better in Ireland now, in 1950, and I’m doing quite well. When I was young my mother sent me to live with the nuns for a time. I rebelled a bit as a child, so they moved me to St. Giles.
That’s a hospital?
Juniper: Of sorts. So they called it. It was really a place where they put folks, mostly girls, whose families don’t want them or maybe just couldn’t deal with them. They let me go when I was older.
Your parents didn’t want you? I heard a different story.
Juniper: I heard it too. Call it what you will, but in my mind I was abandoned. I’m still trying to adapt.
Say no more. We don’t want to spoil the story.
Juniper: I was happy, though, when I got to work in the gardens. I learned a lot about plants from the gardner at St. Giles. And also from letters my granny sent me. She made herbal cures as well. I am what you might call an herbalist or a natural healer. I think that’s the term from your time.
How fascinating. I bet folks appreciate the things you make.
Juniper: Most do. There was a wee bit of trouble once, a bit of a mix up with one of my cures.
Wait! Don’t tell us.
Juniper: Happy not to talk about that.
So, your father, Patrick, went to America?
Juniper: He did. My mother called him Paddy. I was told he’d died over there.
I heard something different. Life was difficult for him in America. At least in the beginning.
Juniper: Now you wait. Don’t be spoiling things, as you said.
Sorry. Isn’t there a handsome new rector in your village now?
Juniper: Yes, Donal. He’s the kindest person I have ever met. My experience with the church has been less than pleasant, but meeting him has made me look at things differently.
Will something develop between you two?
Juniper: You sound like Granny. We shall see.
Why don’t you tell us about your name?
Juniper: Ah, my name. Granny always called me Juniper, but my birth name was Anna. St. Giles would only call me Anna, so I got used to that. I like Juniper, though, named as I was for a lovely green plant. There is such beauty in the world out of doors. Much healing in plants.
Do you find healing by working in the garden? And in the novel as well?
Juniper: I do feel calmer when I toil in my fields, but healing for my whole self? You’ll have to read to find out.
Thanks for chatting with us, Juniper.
Known for the inspirational Celtic theme employed in most of her books, Cindy Thomson is the author of both fiction and nonfiction. A genealogy enthusiast, she writes from her home in Ohio where she lives with her husband Tom near their three grown sons and their families. Visit her online at CindysWriting.com
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