The Maid of Salerno .pdf
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The Maid of Salerno
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN47403 www.authorhouse.com
Phone:1 (800) 839-8640
© 2016 Creative Consulting Corp. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any
means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 02/25/2016
ISBN: 978-1-5049-6992-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5049-6916-1 (e)
Library of Congress Control Mother: 2015920913
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book
may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this
work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and
the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Other books by Vi Zetterwall:
February and the Single Heart
March and the Single Heart
April and the Single Heart
May and the Single Heart
June and the Single Heart
July and the Single Heart
August and the Single Heart
September and the Single Heart
October and the Single Heart
November and the Single Heart
December and the Single Heart
The future is not predestined. The universe is not undisciplined. The
events that change history occur because one soul stood up when all
others sat down. The seed of greatness is planted in every human being
at birth. Many fall on fallow ground and fail to take hold. Some sprout
and stand up when happenstance and serendipity find them in the right
place at the right time. They seize the moment, but often their deeds are
short-lived. Now and then one is nurtured slowly over many years.
Through time and hardship, that seed blooms. It grows straight; it
grows firm; it grows strong; and a patient universe waits.
A golden hue bathed her in soothing warm light. The light surrounded
her, enveloped her, calmed her very soul.
Somehow she knew she had to make an important decision, but she
couldn't quite grasp what was being asked of her. If she could just
understand, she could make the right choice...
A sharp pounding tore through her reverie, ripping her away from the
balmy golden light and into chilling darkness.
Cassie shot up, her heart pounding. It hadn't been the scariest dream,
yet cold sweat coated her body, trickling down her temples. The thudding
in her ears kept her from hearing her grandmother's voice.
"Ah, who could that be at this time'a night?"
Nana Rose got up from her thin mattress on the low lying cot, her
knees cracking, her body wobbling. Cassie was still too disoriented from
her dream to be of much help.
Fifteen-year-old Cassie was fully awake now. That dream again. The
golden light. What does it all mean? she thought to herself.
The pounding continued, this time accompanied by shouting. It
sounded serious. Clearly someone was in trouble.
"Who is it?" Nana Rose stood by the door of their small hut.
"Nana Rose, please. You've got to come help. It's Nancy," a man
pleaded, his voice frantic, strangled by tears. Cassie couldn't pinpoint
who the voice belonged to, but it didn't matter. Nana Rose had already
picked up her bag and was pulling on a shawl.
"Hand me my walking stick, girl. We've got to help."
Shaking her head to try to clear the muddle from her mind, Cassie
threw back her blankets and scrambled up from her modest bed. She
clutched the wooden stick her grandmother used to support her ailing
body. It was old and polished smooth from years of use.
"C'mon, girl." Nana Rose grabbed her arm, and they shuffled out of
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