Ginny: A Yearning to Belong
First Book in the Ginny Series
They call her simple—but Ginny understands more than anyone realizes.
Ginny: A Yearning to Belong is a powerful tale of displacement, resilience,
and the subtle awakening of a young woman determined not to be defined by those who tried to silence her spirit.
Set in the years after the Civil War, where survival often demanded impossible choices.
Excerpt From the First Chapter:
Chapter One – Ginny
“Dumb ol’ Ginny got no brains, never had any…
Dumb ol’ Ginny got no brains, never had any…”
I could hear my cousins chant, and I knew they meant for me to hear. It was just a whisper of a song comin’ from a darkened room down the hall. The chant started as soon as I’d slipped out of the room we were sharing. They were s’posed to be sleepin’…but then again, so was I. Aunt Nettie had put us all on a pallet in Gram’s sewing room, all the younger ones. She and Gerald were takin’ my bed for the night.
We’d been told to be quiet and go to sleep with the sternest warning. I did try to do as she said, but with my cousins whisperin’ and gigglin’ and pokin’ fun of me, I just couldn’t. They’d been at it all my twelve or so of my years, pickin’ and tryin’ to taunt me wi’d their little song. One would think that on such a day as this, they wouldn’t carry on so, but they did. I just couldn’t take it anymore, so I got myself up. After all, the talk takin’ place was about me, and I figured I needed to hear it.
It was a most serious and dreadful day. Even as bein’ so dumb as I was, I knew that hereafter, my life would be changed forever. I s’pose I’d see many such days ahead of me now. But this one was ‘specially hurtful.
Blocking out their chant, I listened carefully to the talk going on in the eating room, and I heard my pap say, “I just can’t abandon her now.” From the hiding place in the hall, I watched him wipe a tear from his eye. “I promised her gram I would care for her, and by jimmies, I have to keep that promise.”
The memory of Pap sitting at the table with the family all around, everybody looking so sad-faced, was to be ever stuck in my head.
Pap’s hand cradled a cup of cold coffee, his gaze fixed on its murky depths. The late hour hung heavy in the air, past midnight, and sleep eluded us all. The fireplace cast a dim glow, the dying embers barely illuminating the room. A chill settled in, a chill that seemed to seep into our very bones.
In the center of the parlor, the coffin lay solemnly, propped up by two kitchen chairs. Draped in white sheets in a feeble attempt to dress them up, the chairs still betrayed their simple origins. It was a haunting scene, a stark reminder of the finality of life.
As we stood in silence, the weight of grief and loss hung heavy in the air. The room seemed to hold its breath as if waiting for the inevitable. And in that moment, time stood still, the only sound the soft crackle of the dying fire.
The beautiful pine wood box, adorned with intricate carvings and painted a brilliant white, represented the stylishness and grace that was Gram. Within its soft linen lining, delicately trimmed with eyelet lace, rested my Gram’s head upon a small pillow, cradled with tenderness.
The gleaming brass handles, three on each side, adorned the box’s exterior, adding a touch of sophistication to its design. The lid, painted in the same brilliant white, had a beautifully carved rose right in its center.
A simple bunch of wildflowers, lovingly tied together with a piece of yarn, was placed in a jar near the coffin, a heartfelt gesture from Missus Ida, Gram’s dearest friend. Within the coffin lay Pap’s beloved wife of fifty-six years, my Gram, a woman of strength, love, and unwavering devotion.
Gram died today…or was it now yesterday? She had what some called the sickness. The doctor called it typhus fever. All I knew was Gram had gotten awfully sick and had been in bed for a long time. I watched helplessly as the woman who had been the cornerstone of our family slowly withdrew into herself. Her laughter, which had filled our home with warmth, became a rare sound, replaced the sound of labored breaths.
I was by her side every day of her sickness for as long as they would let me. I even helped her take her last sip of water. She took that sip, and I gently wiped her mouth and watched as she just sort of went to sleep. As I sat beside her, I could tell what had been my Gram was gone. After that, I sat there for the longest time, watching her chest rise and fall for as long as they would let me stay. It was Nettie that made me leave her side.
They made me stay out when the men came and took Gram away. Hours later, they brought her back in the box. It was only after the flowers were arranged and everything was set straight that they let me see her again.
I stood by the box for as long as they would allow, gazing at her lifeless face. Though my chest hurt something awful, I didn’t cry; I thought of her words tellin’ me to be strong and didn’t shed a tear. The air around me seemed to thicken with sorrow, wrapping me in a suffocating blanket that I couldn’t escape. But still, I didn’t cry.
All afternoon and late into the night, Pap and his son Gerald sat talking at the table. Gerald’s future was foremost on his mind, and he was exhausted and frustrated from pleading and trying to reason his point of view. I knew that if it weren’t for his wife, Nettie, by his side, Gerald would have given in long ago.
“I know you promised her, Pap, but you got t’ think of yourself now. When Gram was alive, the two of you made out alright…but now…you just can’t.”
“All I have left is my word, Gerald. I gave my word to your ma whilst she was on her deathbed, and I aim to keep it. That girl meant the world to her,” Pap spoke without lifting his head. He was tired.
I could see Gerald was tired, too. His face was long and showed his frustration. It was late and he hadn’t had a drink all day. He did a lot of drinking even though Pap didn’t cotton to it and he tried to hide it, but Pap knew.
As the night dragged on, Gerald’s impatience grew, causing him to stand and pace as he tried to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t help but shoot Pap a glare with a snarling face when Pap wasn’t looking, but he dared not do so when Pap could see him. Despite being a grown man, Gerald still held a deep fear of his father, keeping him from being openly disrespectful.
Gerald’s wife, Nettie, on the other hand, seemed unusually patient with Pap. Although she never admitted it, I could sense that she was secretly relieved Gram had finally passed away.
For weeks on end, she had labored with the ordeal of cleaning and caring for Gram…Gram being bedridden and unable to care for herself. In her mind, I know she was thinking just a few more hours to settle this mess was not too much to endure. A few more hours and she would be rid of the lot of them, and they would have the entire farm to themselves.
Pap took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. With a glance in the direction of the coffin, I heard him quietly say, “Isabelle loved that girl, ‘n Ginny loved her.”
“We know, Pap,” Nettie whispered, giving Pap’s arm a gentle pat. “But you know, now that Gram is gone, it’s just too much for you. You can’t care for that child all by yo’self. Ain’t fair to either of you. You got to give her up.”
I watched Pap swallow hard and hang his tired head. For the first time, I realized he was so very old. I could see his weathered face from the flickering lantern; its dim light enhanced his deep wrinkles. I suppose in his heart, he knew what she said was true, and it hurt him deeply.
As I stood there, a mere child in comparison to the burden he bore, I could sense the pain in his heart. The truth of her words cut deep, and I could see the hurt etched in his eyes. It was a harsh reality that even I, in my youth, could not ignore.
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Ginny: A Yearning to Belong | Ginny: The Resilience of Ginny | Ginny: A Promise of Home
Ginny is Available in Kindle, Audio, and Paperback
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From the author of:
When Marriage Feels Distant
A 7-Day Reset
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