Title: THE SILVER LOCKET
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Author: Sophia Bar-Lev
Purchase on Amazon
About the Book: When The Silver Locket opens, it’s July 1941 in Boston, Massachusetts. War is raging in Europe and the Pacific. But for two young women in a small town in New England waging their own personal battles, the struggle is way too close to home.
When extraordinary circumstances bring these two women together, one decision will alter the course of their lives. And with that one decision, their lives will be forever changed…and forever intertwined.
Were these two women thrust together by happenstance—or fate? A tragedy. A decision. A pact. Lives irretrievably changed. A baby girl will grow up in the shadow of a secret that must be kept at all costs. But will this secret ever see the light of day? And what happens when—or if—a promise made must be broken?
Adopting a child is not for the feint of heart—but neither is being adopted…
A sweeping and suspenseful story that unfolds in a different time and a different place, The Silver Locket explores universal themes that ring true even today. Secrets. Unbreakable bonds. The healing power of love. Deception. Anguish. Redemption.
In this touching and tender tale, novelist Sophia Bar-Lev weaves a confident, quietly moving story about adoption, finding hope in the face of hopelessness, and how true love can overcome any obstacle. With its brilliant juxtaposition of the wars fought both on the battlefield and internally, The Silver Locket is a poignant novel, resplendent with drama. Featuring an exceedingly real and relatable plot, and characters that will stay with readers long after the final page is turned, The Silver Locket is a sterling new read.
THE SILVER LOCKET
By Sophia Bar-Lev
It was over in less than four minutes. She lay motionless, zombie-like.
He laughed. He laughed…looking down his nose at her, his steel blue eyes boring into her very soul. Snickering, he turned away, grabbed her black bag and pounded across the tarmac, disappearing into the imposing residence barely a hundred and fifty yards away. Shadows danced grotesquely on its façade, as if paying homage to sinister forces within the darkened mansion.
She was numb, half-dead. Night breezes stirred the leaves above her head.
They moved; she didn’t. Shredded bits of fabric swirled about, brushing across her face, lifting off, floating back down, teasing her, nudging her to get up and walk away.
She couldn’t. Not yet.
A full hour passed; a full hour of her life stolen by shock – by crippling, deadening, devastating shock.
Suddenly a wail pierced the quiet. It crescendoed into a howl, and just as quickly receded into deep, forceful sobs. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. Finally, drained and spent, she rolled onto her side and with difficulty, stood to her feet. She felt pain but chose to ignore it. Disoriented, she searched her immediate surroundings for something familiar. The darkness gave up no clue but her mind came to the rescue.
It was coming back to her now. The critical patient at the hospital…the Irish doctor, the kind one…the new chaplain on staff…making one last round on the ward …the new chaplain…my keys, where did I put my keys…why was he standing there…the new chaplain
She took a few steps.
“I’m so proud of you, darling,” her Dad had whispered as he led her down the aisle three years ago. Why are such thoughts coming up in my mind now? She shook her head violently.
Approaching headlights distracted her. Startled into reality, she pulled her torn dress close, her eyes darting around for a tree, a shrub, any place to hide.
The car slowed and a kindly voice called to her. “Do you need a ride, Miss?” The white-haired driver had rolled down the window and getting out of the car he added, “It’s awfully late for you to be out walking by yourself, isn’t it?” He made his way to the other side and opened the passenger door. “Where do you need to go?” he asked.
Still partially hidden by shadows, she hesitated. “Thank you,” she answered, her voice uneven. “I’ll be…um… fine. Thank you.”
The driver inched forward sensing her anxiety. “Are you sure?” he asked again. “I don’t think…well, I’d be happy to give you a lift.”
The moon broke through the clouds at that precise moment and illuminated the bloody, dress and dirt-streaked face. He gasped. She pulled back. Biting her lip, she shook her head back and forth but said nothing.
He paused where he stood, uncertain, confused.
“Shall I take you to the hospital?” he asked softly.
“No! No!” she practically screamed. “Not there. No! No!”
“I can take you home,” he persisted. “Do you want to go home?”
She stared at him for several moments, then nodded. Pulling her dress tighter across her chest, she stumbled toward him. He guided her to the open door. Before getting in, she turned to him, “Please, Mister, please. Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this. Please.”
He searched her young face and thought of his own daughter about the same age. He sighed and nodded, “OK. If that’s what you want, OK. Let’s just get you home.”
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