The Divided Child - Softcover

Nikas, Ekaterine

Softcover

ISBN 10: 192961375X ISBN 13: 9781929613755

Publisher: Avid Pr Llc, 2001

Synopsis

Sunny Greece turns deadly....

All Christine Stewart wants is a relaxing vacation on the beautiful Greek island of Corfu. Then she meets nine-year-old Michael Redfield and saves him from being crushed by a falling piece of Byzantine stone.

Invited to spend the rest of her holiday at the luxurious villa where Michael is staying with his family, Christine soon realizes something is wrong with the Redfield clan.

Michael's stepmother is openly hostile, her brother is charmingly seductive, and Michael's handsome uncle seems obsessed with the death of his brother--Michael's father.

Christine has no desire to become even more deeply embroiled in the family's problems, but how can she abandon Michael when she learns he is the pawn in a nasty custody battle...and the target of a killer?

About this title

From the Author:

I was inspired to write this book by a photograph and a news article. The photograph was one I took on the Greek island of Corfu. An oncoming storm had dimmed the usually brilliant Greek sky to a brooding and ominous grey, and untold stories seemed to hover in the air like incipient raindrops.

Then I read an article about a three-year-old heiress and the wrangling that surrounded the custody battle for her. All custody battles are hard, but I began to wonder what would happen to a child who was fought over not because he was wanted, but because he was worth a fortune, especially if the custody battle began to turn deadly.

Suddenly I imagined just such a child watching the storm approach, hoping for better times, but surrounded by danger. And I imagined another figure there as well, standing next to him. A woman who'd suffered her own battles, but couldn't turn away from a child who needed her protection.

That's how THE DIVIDED CHILD was born. I hope you enjoy the story.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

It's hard to remember a place you've never been.

But when the turquoise sea darkened, and the oncoming storm filled the sky with clouds -- obscuring the brilliant sunlight for which Greece is famous, I stared down from the wall of Corfu's Old Fortress at a scene suddenly familiar.

A curving bay of steel-blue water. Cream-colored buildings rising gracefully above a grey stone escarpment. A verdant swath of trees draped around the town like a necklace, and a veil of grey clouds darkening toward the horizon to match the sea. All that was missing was the frame.

As a girl, I'd often gazed up at the small watercolor hanging above my bed, dreaming of adventure and faraway lands. Some days I’d wander the twisting streets searching for pirates. Other days I'd dive into the cool water of the bay and emerge from the surf with arms full of treasure. And sometimes, when I was feeling especially brave, I’d board one of the brightly painted ships anchored in the harbor and sail off in search of my father, a wanderer lost on his journey home.

The memory made my throat ache.

I contemplated the view. It had changed remarkably little in twenty-eight years. My parents had been to Greece only once -- on their honeymoon. I was born nine months later, and my grandfather considered it an established fact and a point of great honor that I'd been conceived on Greek soil. Perhaps that's why the picture had been hung in my room, though I can't say for sure. Mother never talked about it. I was fifteen before I knew it had been painted by my father.

My reminiscences were interrupted by a sudden spate of German. Two tourists, a blond man and a blonder young woman, walked hand-in-hand past where I sat on the crumbling wall. He offered me a brief nod, she a cursory smile, before their attention snapped back to each other. I watched them climb out of sight, their feet scrunching on the loose gravel, and felt -- with relief -- the past recede.

I stood up and dusted off my pants, reminding myself this was a vacation, not a wake. A cold gust of wind whipped by, causing me to shiver. The clouds overhead had grown darker. It was time to leave, before this unexpected May rainstorm did more than just threaten. I hesitated, then turned to go.

Fate is a strange thing. The ancient Greeks believed a person’s destiny was a thread to be spun, measured, and cut at whim by the gods. Yet we don’t live in isolation; our fates are woven together. And sometimes a single act -- a small tug on a delicate line -- can pull the weave apart. If I’d just gone back to my hotel that morning and forgotten my father’s painting come to life, things would have turned out differently. But I, like Orpheus, could not resist temptation. I looked back, anxious for one last glimpse of that scene from my childhood, and inadvertently I started the whole bloody pattern unraveling.

About this edition

• Publisher: Avid Pr Llc
• Publication date: 2001
• ISBN 10: 192961375X
• ISBN 13: 9781929613755
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 356