Introduction to 'Voyage of Abigail'

This is the Introduction page in 'Voyage of Abigail', the book now in the final preparation stages before publication.

INTRODUCTION

When I sat out to write ‘A Ship Called Abigail,’ I had no idea that from that one book, another story would spring forth. And then another. Now, with the completion of ‘Voyage of Abigail,’ two more books in the series will follow. Beyond that? It remains to be seen.

All that is necessary for another book to be brought to life, is for a character, or a set of characters within the one just written, to reach out and demand that their own story to be told. I am not deaf to those demands. I hear them, and I have promised them that their own stories will be told.

‘Voyage of Abigail’ is not a “part two” in a series. It is its own story. It is a sequel. It does branch from the story which was told in the first book, but it is its own story. Josias Lancaster whom I met in the first book, made it clear to me that his story of loss, and his new love found, although it was partly told in the former book, the whole story must be told. His story. In honoring his wishes, this book is the result.

Josias introduced me to the lady who came into his life after his own loss. She repaired the broken pieces of his life, and she became his bride. I learned that Ann Merriweather had suffered her own heartbreak, and abandonment, even though she had not previously been a wife.

Loss, however it comes about, or whatever form it takes, creates an indelible mark on the heart, and even on the spirit which becomes a part of who we are for the remainder of our days.

It is a simple truth that even later in life we can start on the path of living which we may have missed in our younger years. She found the truth in that statement and gave me a new perspective on love found and I hope, an even greater appreciation for this thing called ‘Second Chances.’

There are others within both books who are clamoring to have their own stories told. With God’s will and His favor, I will do my best to tell their stories, and for whoever should follow, their stories as well.

Dan W. Dooley

From the Sequel Book to 'A Ship Called Abigail'

“Tell me, Matthew,” she asked and the sound of speaking his name thrilled her in a way she had not known before. “You have no employment. You have no family. What do you see your prospects being?”

With a puzzled look, he asked, “what is ‘prospects’?”

She sighed. “What do you see tomorrow bringing for you?”

He sat up straight and his eyes beamed. “Do you know what I wanted to become? That is before now.”

She knew that he meant before the loss of his parents, and everything else life would have offered him. She knew without him saying it that whatever dream that had been, it was now dead.

“I wanted to be an artist. To paint magnificent pictures of places I have never seen before. To go to places I’ve never been before.”

But that dream had died for him. He did not say it, but she knew. “I would love to see some of your paintings.”

“Alas, I don’t have any. They were lost when I left the big city and came here. I don’t know what became of them.”

“Have you painted since you came here?” She knew the answer to that one as well.

“No. No spirit. Is that how you say it? That thing inside which must paint.”

“I understand,” she answered. “The motivation or the inspiration. If you lose that, well…” Now she was understanding more and she would not ask him any more questions about his thoughts on his future. He did not have a future.

The Story Anew

With the original book in the series 'A Ship Called Abigail' already published and available to buy and read, the second book, the sequel is soon to be added for purchase and reading.

I should not call this a true series for it is really a sequel rather than a multi-volume series.  The second book though it is set in time following the story in the first book, it is actually a different story.  This is  not a continuation of the story of the main characters in the first book.  It is the story of another character who figures importantly in the first book.  It is his story.  Well, their story, actually, for like Harris and Anna who following loss and widowhood, this man finds new love after loss.

The sequel story can stand alone.  It is not a continuation of a story before it.  It has an association with a story before it, and there will be references to people and events within the story before, but a reader can, if desired, enjoy the sequel story even if they have not read the one before.  Of course it is my hope that any who read this new book will also read the first one.  So much more will be gotten from the story.

Finding new love after loss is never easy.  It presents vastly different challenges than those who are young and are finding love for the first time.  Or rather I should say, committed love.  Marriage love.  Josias Lancaster finds the truth in that statement, for he is a man in his sixties when he finally finds that new love after loss.

This is also the story of the first voyage of the air ship Abigail.  Whether it will be the last voyage, only future sequels will tell.

And on the matter of sequels, out of the first book and out of this new book, two more stories will bring about at least two more sequels.  I foresee a total of four stories for four books.  But, I would never dare to predict that the four will be the end of it.

The Reason For it All

Being active in a number of social media forums, and being one with a propensity to write, expressing feelings and emotions, I have written much about the experience of meeting Patsy.

Patsy and I were both widowed and we met each other and we have now been married two years and some months. Our story has been told many times, to new friends, even casual acquaintances and in a host of social media posts.

It was inevitable that I would be encouraged to write a book telling our story. As I love to write, and have had some professional writing experience, I jumped on the opportunity to tell our story.

But, I was not going to write the story in memoir form, nor was it going to be autobiographical. I prefer fiction writing and fiction it would be.

The story is entirely fictional. The characters are entirely fictional as is the setting. But, within the story of two people, Harris Wimberly and Anna Forth, both widowed who found each other and learned to live and love again, is our story.

It is a story of second chances and life after loss. It is also a story of God's working in our lives to bring things together when we learn to let go and lean on Him instead of trying to do things which we simply cannot do.

It is my hope that all who read it will be encouraged and inspired. I also hope that the information and the link to the book will be shared to any who may need such encouragement. Especially the widowed who feel that there is little chance for them to know love again.

Josias and Ann's Story Continues in 'Voyage of Abigail'

“I hear a rumor from time to time that he is back in the social world and that there may even be a lady in the picture. But don’t charge that to my account as I can neither affirm or disprove it.”

“What about the ship you are building here?” Harris asked.

“Oh he makes no mention of it and it appears that he still wants to avoid any association with it. But he still provides the funds needed to complete it. You know it’s just about finished.”

Anna looked puzzled at that statement and she turned to face Harris, with the question on her face. Harris took note and he asked Martin to tell the story again for her benefit.

“You see, my dear,” Martin began. Josias Lancaster had for many years a reputation as something of a ladies man. He never allowed himself to become rightfully involved with any one woman. Some would say he was a rake and not much of an honorable man with the ladies. Now some of that may be a stretching of the truth, but it was not too far off course.

“He met a lady who completely turned him around. The change in him was immense. One would have said that he got religion. Well, he did not exactly, but the change was great. He quit all of his wayward ways and rejected all other women. He became engaged to this one. The ship was a dream of his and we believe that he was thinking of retiring and spending the rest of his life in leisure and travel with her. He had the financial means to do so.

“So he laid the plans for the construction of the ship which is a lighter than air vessel. Not a Zeppelin dirigible, mind you but one with sails and a wooden hull which can also sail the oceans. He planned to use it for their honeymoon. But, tragically, before they could marry, she died suddenly and unexpectedly.

“Just as meeting her had changed him for the better, her death changed him in another way. No, he did not return to his old irresponsible ways but rather it was as though his soul was taken from him and he seemed to move about life as an empty shell, devoid of any spirit. Her death in a way killed his heart.”

Anna listened to this with eyes filling with sadness and she dabbed at the corners with her handkerchief. “What was the lady’s name?” she asked.

“It was Abigail,” Martin answered.

Following a Week of No News

Anna finished dressing and making a final check of her appearance in the mirror, she prepared to go to Bryan’s room to check on him, and his readiness to leave for church that Sunday morning. A knock came upon the door to her bedchamber and Mildred’s voice came from the other side.

“Oh Ma’am, sorry to disturb you but I found something which you may want to see.”

“What is it, Mildred?” she inquired.

“A letter. I found it on the floor behind the foyer table. I found it just now. I guess it fell down behind, and nobody saw it until I saw it just now,” Mildred answered.

“Let me see it.” Mildred opened the door and Mildred put the letter into her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. It contained the return address of H. Wimberly.

From Harris! Her fingers trembled as she used the letter opener knife which was kept on the dresser to slit open the envelope. She unfolded the single sheet of paper and read;

My Dearest Anna,

Please pardon my use of the familiar, but I must let what my heart feels dictate the words my pen puts to paper.

I have come to hold a special place for you in my heart and though it is very early in our meeting and building a relationship which I hope meets your acceptance, I must say what I feel.

It is my hope that if it is agreeable to you, I may pursue the pleasure of your company and I ask your permission to court you.

I will meet you Sunday morning at church and if it is agreeable to you, please reserve a space for me near you. We will continue to talk and get to know each other better.

Expectantly yours,
Harris

Sage Advice From an Unexpected Source

Suddenly he had the urge to talk to someone and Agnes would provide a ready ear. She too often grew lonely for human conversation but she did have a friend who was the housekeeper next door and those two older ladies often spent time, sometimes, a great amount of time, sharing a cup of tea at the table in the back garden of Harris’ house. And, she had her telephone and from what Harris could surmise, she made good use of that instrument. Now she sat at the end of the table opposite him.

“Agnes, may I have the honor of your opinion on a matter of personal interest to me?” he asked as he sat down at the table.

“Sure, of course, Mr. Wimberly,” she answered. “I’m not much at giving high wisdom but I’ve my thoughts on things, you know.”

“I know that, and I appreciate it. Allow me to tell you something I have told no one else,” he said.

“Oh goodness,” she replied. “Yes. Please tell me. I know that you have been in a very good humour the last several days, so I figured you had some good news.”

“Would you be surprised if I told you that I have met a lady whom I like very much?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Her hands went to her breast. “Oh Mr. Wimberly, you are a such a tease. You’re not serious, are you? Really? Did you?”

“Yes, I am serious,” he replied, laughing. “I have met a lady. I do like her very much. Honestly, I believe that God has sent her my way to be my wife.”

“Oh my, Sir! Who is she? Do I know her?” she paused and the look of glee faded from her face.

“Agnes, you seem to disapprove. Why?” he asked, perplexed.

“Oh no, Sir,” she objected. “It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Agnes?” Now he was perplexed.

“It’s just… well I was thinking about what will become of this household and honestly Sir, what…” she left the last unasked.

“Oh yes,” he answered. “Agnes, I don’t know all of the answers. I don’t know if she will have me for her husband. Even if she does, I don’t know what we will do about living arrangements. If we combine households, I don’t know what will happen with anyone’s position. I know that I do not want to lose you or your services. I will want to bring you into our new home. I just don’t know about anything else right now. After all, I just met her and I don’t even know for certain how she feels about me. I have not even started courting her yet.”

“Sir, I know that you have been lonely and so sad for so long after Ruth’s passing. You deserve to be happy,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I never thought marriage would be for me following her, but I now know that I am not a man who enjoys living alone. I’ve been praying about it much and I believe God is answering my prayers.”

God is good, you know,” she said. “I’ve been distressed to see you skipping church so much.

“Well that is changing, Agnes,” he assured her. “I was in church last Sunday. I will be in church every time I can. I feel better being closer to God. I have so much I owe Him for. So much to be grateful for.”

“I suppose the letter I put in the post Monday was to her?” Agnes asked.

“Yes it was,” he answered.

“I thought something was up when I saw the letter. It didn’t look like it was addressed to one of your business associates.”

“You are indeed a sly one,” he laughed.

He grew serious. “Tell me Agnes, how can I know if this is the real thing? How can I know if she is the one God is sending me to become my wife? Give me your thoughts.”

“I knew when I met the mister that he was the one I was going to marry. But you know what really told me that he was the right one?”

“No. Tell me,” he replied.

“Both of us knew. I knew in my heart that he was the right one and he told me that he knew the same about me. I have always believed that when, for anyone, when the right one comes along, both of you will know it.” Her wisdom never failed to impress him.

“How long have you been widowed?” he asked. She had told him before but he had forgotten.

“Fourteen years next month.”

“Did you ever consider remarrying.”

“Oh yes. Once or twice,” she replied. “I had a male suiter who did propose to me but I sent him packing.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“Simple,” she replied. “I didn’t love him. Why I hardly liked him. I thought that he was horrible looking. Oh he was a good man, I think, but I just couldn’t see waking up to see that face every morning.” He laughed in response.

A Hint of Things to Come

“Oh one more thing, Agnes,” he interrupted her walk out of the room. “Would you be so kind as to deliver this letter to the post sometime this morning. I would myself but I fear that I am not going to leave this room until nightfall. I want it delivered as soon as possible.”

“Yes, by all means,” she answered. Taking the envelope, she exited his office and headed toward her kitchen. Turning the envelope over and having a quick look at the front of the envelope, she saw that it was addressed to a lady.

Anna's Day Goes From Bad to Worse

Anna’s day was about to go from bad to worse. Today was her day off from duties at the hospital. Nevertheless, she received an emergency call from the hospital. Leaving her breakfast unfinished, she hurriedly dressed and rushed out the door. She arrived at the hospital where she was presented with a new case file.

A young couple with their first child were sitting in the waiting room. The child, a girl of three months old had developed a fever the day before and as the child’s temperature rose to an alarming level, they had brought her to the hospital during the night. The attending physician examined the child and with great reluctance had informed the parents of the serious nature of the sickness.

Now that Anna was here, the case would be hers. She hurriedly studied the facts of the case and summoned the nurse who had assisted the previous doctor in examining the child.

“It’s hopeless, Doctor,” the nurse sighed. “Doctor Throckmorton, and you know how good a doctor he is, feels that the condition is hopeless. He has gone off shift but if you like, I can summon him to talk to you and give you his opinion.”

“That won’t be necessary right now, Agnes,” Anna replied. “I’ll go have a look myself. Come with me.” She arose from her desk and with the patient files in hand, and Agnes tagging behind, she walked quickly to the Infant Critical Care Unit.

It did not take her long to reach the same conclusion as the previous physician. The child was dying. She left the bedside and hurried to the waiting room down the hall where sat a young man and woman. There was no one else in the room at that time so she knew…

The woman looked to be about twenty-two. With a pale complexion now even whiter than was healthy, she stared ahead with hollow eyes, the likes of which Anna had seen before and they always spoke the same message.

The young mother was beyond the ability to shed tears and that was the state of mind, Anna in her professional experience saw, and it cut her deeply in her heart. All of the tears the young mother was to shed, she already had shed. She had no more to shed.

The young man, obviously the father, had a frightened look on his face which caused his black eyes to dart about the room, seeing things which only his tormented mind could see.

Anna ordered the nurse to go and find two comfortable chairs to put by the bedside of the child. She would not have the parents isolated from their dying child. Knowing in her own heart and out of her own professional experience and knowledge that mere hours remained, she wanted them to be by the bedside of their child and nowhere else.

She introduced herself to the two and seeing the look of pleading in the mother’s eyes, begging her as a physician to save her daughter’s life, Anna had to call upon the inner strength such occasions in the past had built into her. Her only recourse was to assure the mother that “we’re doing all we can do. It is now up to God.”

With the parents now in the room with their child, where they would remain until either a miracle of Divine Providence came, or the child would be forever relieved of this world’s sorrows and pain. In the meantime, Anna would devote all of her time and skills to working what magic she could weakly call upon through administered medicines and hope for what she knew was no hope at all. But she owed to them her best and that is all that she could give. And she gave it.

It was of no avail for four hours later, haggard and drained of physical and emotional strength, having called upon others more expert than herself, and trying everything the medical school had taught her and what she had learned since, she was in the room when the baby breathed its last. Still, the mother could not cry. She could only sit with a blank stare on her face while her husband did break down into sobs of heartbreak.

Anna sat with them for the space of a half hour more and taking the mother’s hands in hers, she voiced a prayer for them for peace and comfort. Where the child’s mother could not cry, Anna shed tears enough for both as the other one rested her head in silence on the shoulder of the doctor who could do nothing to save her child.

A Young Widower's Grief

It was apparent that the young Roger wanted to talk. Harris learned that he was twenty-two years old and he had been married two years before his wife passed away unexpectedly. There was a complication with her pregnancy, and she passed, leaving him with neither wife nor child. He seemed to reside in a perpetual state of confusion. Harris by now had come to realize that grief presents its face in divers forms, and no one knows it the same way.

While Roger had been telling his story, Harris noted that the lady, the one named Anna, had turned and leaned a little more in his direction as she listened intently to the story of loss Roger related. A glance from Harris and he saw that her brown eyes were kindly eyes. Loving eyes, even. It came to him without prompting, that she had a pretty, and yes, even a comfortable face. That he meant for the best of reasons. Comfortable is good.

Dinner was served, with orders from the menu, and a refill of the glass, and he became aware that Roger had sunk into a state of melancholy which with the drinks the young man was swallowing, he was slipping into a state of sentimentalism of grief and inebriation. The young man was still very much lost in his grief and Harris saw that he was on the verge of giving way to sobbing.

Harris felt helpless. He knew no words to make the situation right and he felt the nervous embarrassment rising, leaving him slightly red of face and wishing he were somewhere else. Now Roger had buried his face in his hands and was weeping.

The Amazon Page Description

The Amazon description.

Harris Wimberly is widowed. Time passes and he still cannot see himself with another woman. Not that he loves being alone. He does not. He would love to find love again. But how? How would he ever meet the right woman? How would he know the right woman should he meet a new woman?

Anna Forth is also widowed. With a busy pediatric practice and a thirteen year old son, the chances of her having the time to find new love seems farfetched. Not that that eases the loneliness she feels. She wants to be a wife again. Her son does need a dad. But how would she ever find the right man to be the husband she needs, and the father figure her son needs?

Harris and Anna live in a world which is not ours. It is a world of steam powered cars, lories, trains, and even outrageous flying machines including lighter than air Zeppelin dirigibles and airships. Clothing styles remind us of Victorian era dress, and goggles and top hats, leather and brass accessories, and gears and clocks. The geography of the land is not the same as ours, for cities with names which we do recognize, are not the cities we know in our world.

Notwithstanding the differences between our worlds, the human heart knows all of the other common emotions which are the same way regardless of the world it lives in. The loss of a loved one, especially a spouse through death, brings the same heartbreak, and new love found brings joy just the same in both worlds. The worlds we live in may be different, but the need for love is the same.

Opening Lines of 'A Ship Called Abigail'

It started. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. One, two, three, four o’clock. Hammers in the massive Grandfather clock in the parlour below pounded against the tuned chime rods, condensing the space of four hours into a matter of a few seconds. In his bedchamber directly above, Harris Wimberly opened his eyes, still in the mist of sleep for a space of some seconds, and for that space of time, he was not sure where he was, or what day of the week it was.

From somewhere far below, within the bowels of the house came the chattering of a steam valve as it opened, fueling the air heater signaling the start of the waking day, and warmer air within the house.

After an exhausting and lengthy dirigible flight from England just three days before, where he had labored at his trade for a fortnight, he is once again at home in his own bed. He will have slept here only for these three nights, for once again his trade calls him to another city, and another series of nights in beds not his own.

Young Love Ignored

An excerpt from the sequel to 'A Ship Called Abigail'
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Somewhere else, that fourteen-year-old boy was once again experiencing the heartbreak of rejection by a girl. Once again, as she had done oft before, Sarah Vandergriff had snubbed him and told him that she would never consent to accepting him as her beau.

In her eyes, even though with his last birthday only weeks before he was the same age as she, fourteen years old, he was still just a kid and if she was going to have a beau, that one would have to be a mature, sophisticated, tall and handsome man. It would be all the better if he was rich. And Bryan Wimberly was not rich. Nor was he tall and handsome.