Jean Clarke shuffled uncomfortably under the heavy weight of the patchwork quilt. Her eyes strained and her arthritic fingers struggled to complete a tiny delicate stitch in the latest segment of her ornate work.
She moved the bulky soft mass aside pausing to gently touch a neat square segment. It depicted a pretty rural farming scene similar in landscape to the King Country area of New Zealand. It was here that she had experienced the foundation of her life and it was here that she had become a member of the complicated Clarke family. A family haunted by tragedy and hardened by struggle.
She smiled, her lined face crinkled into the texture and appearance of a well-used brown paper bag. Oh, how her life could have been different. It could have been a safe and secure walk through varying shades of beige.
Her fingers travelled to another patch. This time it represented a chapter she had attached reluctantly to the fabric diary of their life. Two giant pine trees stood stark and symbolic. She felt the familiar crawl pass along her spine and run in tiny goose bumps down her arms.
Jean was born into security, a place where one day of routine was followed by another. Where the future was mapped out and predictable and where life was accepted just the way it was, like morning after night. How things had changed when she had married into the Clarke family! A roller coaster chased by a turbulent past, embedded in the rich soil of the New Zealand High Country. A family plagued by the anger, blood and the tragedy of those that went before. A family that she ultimately hoped would be healed as the questions were answered and the burden could be shed by the younger generation.
I hope you have enjoyed a taste of the prologue. Currently available on Amazon at .99c