by Lynne Gentry
Praise for HEALER of CARTHAGE
“Healer of Carthage held me captive from the first page to the last. Lynne Gentry’s authentic voice and rich detail in this breathtaking time-travel adventure delight with every twist. Gladiator games, plagues, romance, and high-stakes political intrigue carried me from the filthy streets of ancient Tunisia to its lavish palaces with a cast of characters I won’t soon forget. Highly recommended!”
—Carla Stewart, award-winning author of Chasing Lilacs and Sweet Dreams
“Until recently, I didn’t think there could be a time-travel book that was also Christian. This book blew that idea right out of my head. Lynne Gentry has written a wonderful time-travel story that has elements of medical suspense as well, one of my favorite genres. Her characters leaped off the page, grabbed my heart, and pulled me through the portal. I lived every minute with them. The only problem is that I will have to wait awhile before the next installment comes. Write faster, Lynne!”
—Lena Nelson Dooley, award-winning author of Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico; Maggie’s Journey;Mary’s Blessing; and Catherine’s Pursuit
“With her debut novel, Ms. Gentry has proven to be a masterful storyteller. Healer of Carthage is full of depth and emotion, twists and turns that carry the reader away to ancient Rome. From the first page to the last, the reader is instantly taken into a world of emotion, secrets, and political intrigue. Ultimately, this is a story about healing past wounds and discovering love . . . in its many varied forms. I highly recommend accepting this author’s invitation to fall into another world. A wonderful trip awaits.”
—Kellie Coates Gilbert, author of Mother of Pearl
“What a wonderful premise! Healer of Carthage follows Lisbeth, a modern-day doctor, as she’s transported through time to ancient Carthage. I found it fascinating to watch Lisbeth apply her knowledge of medicine to a group of very early Christians. This novel is rich in detail and drama. A unique and terrific debut by talented author Lynne Gentry!”
—Becky Wade, author of Undeniably Yours
“Lynne Gentry’s debut novel pulls you in from page one and never lets you come up for air as you follow Lisbeth Hastings into the turbulent world of third-century Carthage in a gripping tale of mercy, passion, sacrifice, and deceit.”
—Lisa Harris, author of Dangerous Passage
“From a modern-day emergency room to third-century back alleys, Healer of Carthage pulls readers into a riveting story that will keep pulses racing and hearts twisting. Beautiful writing. Compelling story. Enough twists and turns to keep you on your toes every step of the way. Kudos to author Lynn Gentry for this remarkable, haunting story line. Highly recommended!”
—Janice Thompson, author of Queen of the Waves
“Extraordinary writing. Exceptional story. I’ve just discovered my new favorite author in Lynne Gentry. With an incredible, compelling new voice she weaves the past and present together in a fascinating tale that I couldn’t put down. I can’t wait to read more from her, and while I’m waiting, I think I’ll read Healer of Carthage again!”
—Elizabeth Goddard, Carol Award–winning author of Treacherous Skies, Riptide, and Wilderness Peril
Praise for RETURN to EXILE
“Compelling. Return to Exile took me to a time period that I had never been that interested in and built a sympathetic heart in me for the horrific things Christians had to face in that area and time. Because Lynne Gentry’s characters are so well-developed, they took up residence in my thoughts and have lingered there for over a week after I finished reading the book. Of course, I can hardly wait until the next book comes out. I believe every Christian should read these books to give them an awareness of how blessed we are to be able to live our beliefs without fearing for our lives.”
—Lena Nelson Dooley, author of the double-award-winning Catherine’s Pursuit
“Return to Exile, Lynne Gentry’s sweeping saga of lost dreams, epic struggles, sinister passions, and unrequited love—all playing out against the stunning backdrop of third-century Rome—returns to enthrall readers of her earlier Healer of Carthage. With surprising twists readers won’t see coming, Gentry has created an inspiring story few will be able to put down until the final page. I am a huge fan of the Carthage Chronicles series, and of author Lynne Gentry. Can hardly wait for the final installment to see how everything turns out for Dr. Lisbeth Hastings!”
—Kellie Coates Gilbert, author of A Woman of Fortune
“Gentry has done it again! Book two in the Carthage Chronicles had me weeping and cheering right along with the main characters, Lisbeth and Cyprian. Their struggle to forge a life from the ashes of Carthage’s diseased city made my heart pound, and as the peril facing them ratcheted, so did my pulse rate. Add Gentry’s enviable talent for wordsmithing, and Return to Exile makes for an incredibly entertaining read.”
—Elizabeth Ludwig, author of Tide and Tempest
“In Return to Exile, Lynne Gentry takes readers on another breathtaking journey as they are transported with Lisbeth from the twenty-first century back to third-century Carthage. But this time, while Lisbeth thinks she’s prepared for what awaits her on the other side of the Cave of the Swimmers, there’s no way for her to anticipate the frightening reality, as she is thrown into an impossible situation that will leave readers begging for more.”
—Lisa Harris, author of the Christy Award–winning novel Dangerous Passage
“Author Lynne Gentry has done it again! Return to Exile is a high-stakes adventure filled with unforgettable characters and amazing historical details. Gentry doesn’t just write with boldness and authenticity but delivers powerful messages in the midst of the plot twists and turns. Turn the page to return to ancient Carthage and join Dr. Lisbeth Hastings in this time-traveling journey!”
—Elizabeth Byler Younts, author of Promise to Return
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For my grandchildren.
The cost of true courage is great.
The day will come when you are called to pay the price.
Remember those brave souls who went before you
and sacrificed out of love.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Love will last forever . . . even when the end comes.
—1 Corinthians 13:7 NLT
1
Dallas, Texas
WHEN UNATTENDED WOUNDS SUCCUMB to infection”—Dr. Lisbeth Hastings advanced the slide in the PowerPoint presentation, and the raw end of a severed leg appeared on the screen—“amputation of the gangrenous extremity may be the only way to stop a deadly pathogen from progressing to the body’s core.” She was not surprised by the hand that shot up.
The ambitious resident with thick glasses and freshly pressed scrubs was always looking for an opportunity to prove his brilliance. Debating whether to give him an excuse to derail her lecture, Lisbeth took a deep breath. “Your question, Dr. Gingrich?”
The surgical resident pressed his glasses to his nose. “What about IV Vancomycin or Zosyn?”
Lisbeth kept her expression neutral, but inside she was cringing. Looking at Dr. Gingrich was like looking at herself nearly twenty years ago. Self-serving. Terrified. And determined to control everyone and every outcome. What a waste of precious time and energy. Oh, the things she would tell that desperate girl if she ever got the chance to go back in time again.
She suppres
sed her desire to take the kid aside and shake some sense into him. Her job was not to coddle young doctors but to make them into quick-thinking surgeons able to face anything the operating room threw at them.
“Vigorous rounds of antibiotics are always the first line of defense. But if modern medicine fails, the ancient practice of amputation is the better decision.” Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her white coat. Lisbeth ignored the summons and kept her gaze squarely on the young surgical resident. Maybe if he’d watched his mother amputate a man’s leg with nothing more than a serrated saw and a mandrake root for pain, he too would want assurances that he’d done the right thing. “For the treating physician, the decision is never easy. Everything must be considered. Age, overall health, postsurgery quality of life.” The phone vibrations ceased, then immediately began again. She hated being interrupted during grand rounds. Seizing the opportunity to equip a surgeon with the ability to make hard choices was the best part of her job. Lisbeth fished her buzzing phone from her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. “Excuse me, I have to take this. You’re dismissed.” She exited the conference room. “Papa, everything okay?”
“Maggie’s gone!” he blurted.
“What?” Lisbeth hurried across the hall, ducked into her office, and closed the door.
“That fancy art college of hers called.” Panic made his voice tremble. “She’s not been to a single class since we hauled her fanny to Rhode Island.”
“I talked to her yesterday on her birthday.” Lisbeth’s focus shot to the framed photo of Maggie standing outside her freshman dorm. The vivacious young woman waving good-bye was beyond beautiful. Features perfect as sculpted marble. Sea-blue eyes that rippled with a restlessness that was equally becoming and unsettling. Whenever Maggie walked into a room, she commanded attention without even trying, like the aristocrat she was. Lisbeth had been such a tomboy at that age, climbing dunes and digging for buried treasure with her father until he sent her to the States for college. Maggie, on the other hand, possessed a sense of feminine confidence Lisbeth still struggled to grasp.
Leaving her daughter in a city fifteen hundred miles away had been harder on her than it had been on Maggie. Papa had said letting go was a natural part of parenting, but nothing about telling her daughter good-bye felt natural to Lisbeth. She’d loved being a mother. Motherhood had saved her. Given her a place to deposit all the love she still had for Maggie’s father.
“What did she say?” Papa’s anxious voice jerked Lisbeth back to the present.
She rubbed her temple, trying to recall her conversation with Maggie. “She was excited about turning eighteen and being able to make her own decisions.”
“What did you say?” Papa’s question held a tiny edge of accusation.
What didn’t I say? Hairs on the back of Lisbeth’s neck bristled as the discussion replayed in her mind. It was the same fight they always had: what Maggie could and could not do; where she could and could not go; and why it was in her daughter’s best interest to leave the past in the past and move forward.
Lisbeth’s stomach churned at her own hypocrisy. Had she not gambled on what mattered most and taken Maggie to the third century, her failure to reunite her family would not be a wound that refused to heal. Infection, yellow and foul, had seeped into her relationship with her daughter. If she could not stop the deterioration, eventually one of them would be forced to cut the other off. And she knew exactly who would wield the serrated saw. A braid of guilt, regret, and animosity thick as the blond plait that hugged Maggie’s neck squeezed Lisbeth’s heart.
“I said”—she cleared the lump in her throat—“when you start paying your own bills, kiddo, you can go anywhere you want.” She could almost feel Maggie rolling her eyes the moment this statement came out of her mouth . . . again.
“And she said?”
“Whatever, Mom.” Loosely translated: I’m going to do whatever I want.
“Could she have possibly gained access to the inheritance your grandfather left for both of you?”
“She knew when she turned eighteen I’d set her up with an account that automatically transfers money each month.” Lisbeth could feel her heart rate increasing. “Give me a second.” A few furious clicks on the computer and Maggie’s account transactions appeared.
$1,279.00. TunisAir. Charged at 12:02 a.m. Yesterday. The day Maggie turned eighteen.
Lisbeth’s skin went cold. This time the future had gone in search of the past. Fear skipped up Lisbeth’s spine. She loved her daughter, but her hopes and dreams for Maggie did not include having her torn between two worlds for the rest of her life. Lisbeth’s body prepared to run. “Grab my emergency bag and passport. I’ll meet you at DFW.”
“Where is she?”
“Where do you think? The very place I told her never to go.”
Tunis, Tunisia
LISBETH’S COMMERCIAL flight made the slow descent through the clouds. She watched out the window as they circled the ancient ruins of Carthage’s harbor. On about the third pass over the stunning turquoise waters of the Mediterranean port city, the ugly terror swirling in her belly was near eruption. What if she failed again? She removed the barf bag from the seat in front of her, held it to her nose, and breathed in and out.
“You okay?” Papa rubbed her back.
All she could do was nod and pray, bracing herself for the moment the plane’s wheels set her down on African soil for the first time in thirteen years.
As they taxied to the terminal, Lisbeth slid her courage back into place and powered on her phone.
She dialed the same number she’d been trying to reach since bolting from her office. “Maybe we can find Maggie before she finds Nigel.” She threaded her arm through her father’s as they exited the plane. None of her arguments had convinced him to stay behind, and this time she was grateful. “I’m going to keep calling that Irish bush pilot until he answers me.”
Inside the stuffy cinderblock terminal a cacophony of French, Arabic, German, and heavy British drowned out the live Berber drums, sitars, and flutes. In the gray haze of cigarette smoke, Lisbeth rotated like a weather vane, listening to her call go to Nigel’s voice mail while she sorted dialects in search of the sugary Texas twang of one strong-willed blond teenager in big trouble.
She clicked off her phone. “You don’t think he took her to the cave, do you?”
“Maggie can be mighty persuasive, and Nigel’s a softie.”
“But she’s just a kid.”
“He took you there, didn’t he?”
“I was twenty-eight, and it was an emergency.” Lisbeth crammed the phone into the bag with the shiny new Kelly forceps she’d packed for Mama just in case they did have to go all the way back to the third century. “This would not be happening if I’d taken your advice and brought Maggie to Carthage the moment she started pressing for some answers.” Allowing the past to inform the present was a bridge she hadn’t wanted to cross. Lisbeth hefted her bag onto the customs inspection counter. “You were right. There. I said it.”
“I’m still living with the consequences of my decisions. You won’t hear me judging yours. You’re the best mother I know.”
“I should have walked her through the ruins. Helped her find closure. Put the past to bed once and for all.” Her inability to give Maggie what she wanted—no, what she needed—was a constant tug on her heart.
“You can’t ask her to do something you haven’t done yourself.” Papa’s blue eyes drilled her. “It’s forgiveness that girl craves. And I don’t mean from you.”
The impatient customs official asked for their passports. “Coming into the country for business or pleasure?”
“Business.” Papa presented their passports for stamping. “Very delicate business.” He took Lisbeth’s elbow and led her around a group of retired Americans on vacation. Flowered shirts, straw hats, and sensible shoes gave away their plans to spend their vacation tramping the sunbaked remains of a forgotten civilization.
The pr
esence of so many tourists shamed her. Carthage was not the volatile hotbed she’d claimed every time Maggie broached the subject of saving her father. Truth squeezed Lisbeth’s conscience tighter than the crowds pressing in from all sides. Political unrest wasn’t the real source of her reluctance to bring her daughter here.
She’d made a promise.
Until the costs versus the gains of breaking that promise were settled in her mind, she kept her desire to break that promise buried in a tangled web of excuses.
“This way.” Papa pushed past the luxury shops, cafés, and beauty salons. “I arranged our ride ahead of time.”
Intrusive taxi drivers rushed them the moment they stepped into air thick with dust blowing in from the Sahara. The nearness of the desert choked her.
A snaggle-toothed man leaped in front of her. “Thirty dinars to Old Carthage.”
“Twenty to the Bardo.” Another driver hugged her left side. “Much better deal.”
A man who smelled like a goat moved in on the right. “Fifteen and a guided tour of the Tophet.”
“Camel rides, only ten dinar, pretty lady!” shouted a young Bedouin elbowing into the cluster, the reins of two bored-looking beasts of burden clutched in his hands.
“How did Maggie navigate this on her own?” Lisbeth raised her scarf over her nose.
“She’s a smart girl.” Papa squeezed her elbow tighter. “Like her mother.”
“That’s what scares me.”
“Doctor Hastings!” Across the parking lot Aisa, her father’s faithful camp fry cook, paced the wind-sanded hood of an old Land Rover. His cream-colored tunic stood out against the black smoke pouring from the exhaust pipe of a nearby bus. He waved his hands. “Come!”
They hurriedly wove their way through the honking cars and heavy foot traffic. Aisa scrambled down from the vehicle with surprising agility for a man she guessed to be nearly seventy. Lisbeth threw her arms around the wiry-thin Arab. “Aisa!” The comforting scent of lamb roasted over an open fire accompanied his embrace. She reluctantly released him and allowed Papa a moment to greet one of his dearest friends before she asked, “New glasses?”
