ACCLAIM FOR JOANNE BISCHOF
“Bischof’s effortless prose and emotionally driven scenes captivate the reader from beginning to end. Characters so real you begin to believe they are. The Norgaard brothers and their families will steal your heart. Beautifully eloquent, this grace-filled tale is one not to be missed.”
—Catherine West, author of Where Hope Begins, on Daughters of Northern Shores
“Laced with lyrical prose, Daughters of Northern Shores is a story of redemption that gripped me from its first moments. I savored every gorgeous detail, and the characters continue to live with me even now. Bischof is a master at enfolding readers in her story world and bringing them along on a journey of the heart.”
—Lindsay Harrel, author of The Heart Between Us and The Secrets of Paper and Ink
“Sons of Blackbird Mountain is a quiet gem of a historical romance. Refreshingly real and honest in its depiction of flawed but lovable individuals, it introduces characters readers will want to meet again.”
—CBA Marketplace
“Christy and Carol Award-winning author Bischof (The Lady and the Lionheart) creates endearing characters and a heartwarming story line in this unforgettable novel about the power of family, love, and the true meaning of home. Fans of Kristy Cambron, Julie Klassen, and Susan Meissner will love this one.”
—Library Journal on Sons of Blackbird Mountain
“Bischof (The Lady and the Lionheart) transports readers to late 19th-century Appalachian Virginia in this moving historical romance . . . With fine historical details and stark prose that fits the story, Bischof skillfully weaves a tale of love and redemption in rough Appalachia.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sons of Blackbird Mountain
“Beloved author Joanne Bischof doesn’t disappoint with her latest beautifully written, heartrending tale, The Sons of Blackbird Mountain. Her lyrical style is carefully woven together with authentic faith and unique characters that won’t soon be forgotten. It will be a quick favorite for historical romance readers.”
—Elizabeth Byler Younts, author of The Solace of Water
“The sights, sounds, and people of a turn-of-the-century circus come alive in this novel that captivates from word one. Every sentence is pitch perfect, while the characters embed themselves soul deep. Charlie Lionheart is the hero of heroes and a reflection of the fairy tale ‘Beast.’ He is so brilliantly multidimensional that he could easily live outside the pages. The romance between Charlie and Ella is heartachingly beautiful, and the redemption organically sewn into the story’s tent flaps will linger with readers for years.”
—RT Book Reviews, 5 Star TOP PICK!, on The Lady and the Lionheart
“From the moment he bursts onto the pages, Charlie Lionheart splashes color across Ella Beckley’s drab, confined world—and along the way he stole my heart.”
—Lori Benton, Christy Award-winning author of Burning Sky, on The Lady and the Lionheart
“The best stories are ones where you are torn between the desire to linger or read it all in one sitting because you simply have to know what’s going to happen next. The Lady and the Lionheart put me into that delicious agony and held me there until that final page.”
—Sigmund Brouwer, author of Thief of Glory, Christy Award book of the year 2015
“Absorbing. Emotional. Colorful and clever . . . Bischof brings the world of the vintage circus to life in The Lady and the Lionheart, with vibrant scenes and deeply poignant characters. It’s a masterful portrait of redemption—with faith and hope deftly woven in—that grips the reader until the final page. I was swept away and didn’t want to return.”
—Kristy Cambron, author of The Ringmaster’s Wife
“When it comes to depth and originality, Joanne Bischof delivers, and this unique historical is no exception. If you’re wanting a story that satisfies heart and soul, this richly woven novel is for you—a keeper you’re sure to recommend to friends. Beautiful!”
—Laura Frantz, author of The Mistress of Tall Acre, on The Lady and the Lionheart
“The Lady and the Lionheart isn’t a book to read so much as it is a world to inhabit, a story to relish, a love to cherish. It is lyrical, achingly beautiful, and larger than life. This novel is Joanne Bischof at her very finest.”
—Jocelyn Green, award-winning author of the Heroines Behind the Lines Civil War series
“One of the best works of historical fiction I have ever read, Bischof’s alluring prose perfectly relays the heart-rending stories of Charlie, Ella, and a populous of characters who leap from the page. Strewn with threads of redemption not unlike those found in Les Misérables, Bischof perfectly pairs an accessible and engaging historical romance with a deft nod to the classics.”
—Rachel McMillan, author of Murder at the Flamingo, on The Lady and the Lionheart
“Only a handful of authors craft stories that leave an indelible mark on my heart—Joanne Bischof is one of them . . . guaranteed, every single time. The Lady and the Lionheart is simply stunning, from the provocative beginning to its exquisite conclusion, this story is mesmerizing.”
—Rel Mollet, Relz Reviewz & INSPY Award advisory board member
“Breathtaking and drenched in grace, The Lady and the Lionheart will sweep you away with the magic of the circus—and the miracle of redemption. This tale is one for the ages; Charlie and Ella will dance into your life with a story to settle deep within your soul.”
—Amanda Dykes, author of the critically acclaimed Bespoke: a Tiny Christmas Tale
OTHER BOOKS BY JOANNE BISCHOF
THE BLACKBIRD MOUNTAIN SERIES
Sons of Blackbird Mountain
THE CADENCE OF GRACE TRILOGY
Be Still My Soul
Though My Heart Is Torn
My Hope Is Found
The Lady and the Lionheart
This Quiet Sky
To Get to You
Daughters of Northern Shores
© 2019 by Joanne Bischof
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please email [email protected].
Scriptures are taken from the King James Version Bible in the public domain.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Epub Edition January 2019 9780718099138
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bischof, Joanne, author.
Title: Daughters of Northern Shores / Joanne Bischof.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Thomas Nelson, [2019] | Series: A Blackbird mountain novel
Identifiers: LCCN 2018044022 | ISBN 9780718099121 (softcover)
Subjects: | GSAFD: Christian fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3602.I75 D38 2019 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018044022
Printed in the United States of America
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To all the women who have loved and believed, even in the winds of uncertainty
CONTENTS
&nbs
p; Acclaim for Joanne Bischof
Other Books by Joanne Bischof
Deafness on Blackbird Mountain
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
DEAFNESS ON BLACK BIRDMOUNTAIN
FOR EACH DEAF PERSON, INCLUDING ONE OF the characters in this novel, communication methods evolve through unique skills, preferences, and environments. For the characters of Blackbird Mountain, their understanding of this is shaped by their bond to the husband, brother, and friend that is Thor Norgaard, and as a Deaf man in nineteenth-century Appalachia, Thor’s communication was shaped by the very lives around him.
As a boy who could neither hear nor speak, he walked shoulder to shoulder with his brothers in the wilds of their mountain, where the shoving of a shoulder denoted the same comradery as calling out a hello, and the tossing of a pebble garnered as much attention as a whisper. When opportunity brought him to a new language altogether, Thor came to know American Sign Language (ASL) through the teachings of a private school in North Carolina.
This language was carried home with him and shared with his family, as well as, eventually, his bride. As you read, you’ll find these diverse forms of communication at hand, including the use of ASL marked by italics—a visual, three-dimensional language distilled into the two-dimensional written English. Melding these two distinct linguistics was not only a unique challenge for me as an author but a true delight, as both languages are dear to my heart.
For those of you who met the Norgaards within Sons of Blackbird Mountain, your compassion and enthusiasm for their way of life alongside Thor was a true joy to witness. Thank you for voyaging with me into their world once more among these pages of Daughters of Northern Shores. Just as with his brothers during the summers of their youth, and all the willing souls he’s met since, Thor is ready and honored to show the way.
PROLOGUE
DECEMBER 3, 1894
EAGLE ROCK, VIRGINIA
AVEN LOOPED A HAND AROUND HER husband’s strong forearm, holding tight to Thor’s steadying strength. She glanced across the train platform, searching the crowd for the doctor they’d driven the morning to meet. A midwinter’s day stretched in billows of gray and blue overhead, but the beauty was lost to her as rising nerves tamped down even the peace of their life in these mountains. Aven peered up at Thor, who lowered a look her way—one wrapped in his gentle courage and silent fortitude. Generous since it was his own comfort at stake today.
Behind them the train station stood shuttered on both sides by parked wagons and waiting horses, including the four muddied wheels and faithful team of mares that had brought them here. Travelers milled about on the boarded platform where a line of boxcars curved around the bend and out of sight through towering woodlands. Soot and pine spiced the air, as did the chatter of travelers, most seeking a stretch of legs and a breath of crisp mountain air before their journey led away from this rural Appalachian town.
Aven stayed close to her husband’s side amid the commotion, and hearing, “Mr. and Mrs. Norgaard?” she glanced toward a nearby passenger car where a man waited just in front. The cropped hair beneath his bowler hat was as red as her own. With shirtsleeves rolled back and a slim pencil wedged behind his ear, he appeared to be more about business than travel. Just what they’d come for.
“Aye. Doctor Kent?” Her nervousness quieted as Thor led them nearer.
“Yes, ma’am.” A cool, December gust underlined Dr. Kent’s deep southern drawl as he swept the bowler hat from his head. He thanked Aven for her attendance today, then offered a handshake to Thor.
Thor’s forearm tensed with the grip. The leather suspenders that strapped his broad shoulders were thick and well worn compared to this man’s fine tailoring.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Norgaard,” Dr. Kent said. Few people addressed Thor with such ease of comfort, and Aven glanced to her husband, who appeared to read the man’s lips with ease. “I’ve been looking forward to this since learning of your participation in the study.”
Thor gave a polite nod. Most men would have voiced a response, but Thor couldn’t speak a greeting even if he wanted to. The very reason they were here, meeting a physician on this wooden platform.
“Do come inside. The train isn’t scheduled to leave until quarter after. We’ll begin the interview straightaway, but with the questionnaire brief, there should be sufficient time.” After glancing up the line, the man climbed three metal steps into the nearest passenger car.
At Aven’s hesitation, Thor gave her a smile so sober it could barely be seen within his thick brown beard. He motioned for her to go next, then followed behind, strong fingers bracing the small of her back. Her belly blossomed with their child, and while she could still wear a loosely laced corset and get around with ease, his protective care was tender and constant.
When they entered the train car, he took hold of her hand. In his other he gripped the letter that had summoned him here this day. Sent to their farm by the Bureau of Research and Resource for the Deaf and Dumb, it requested an interview with him as well as a brief medical examination and blood draw. Thor admitted to being unfamiliar with the organization, but while the bureau declared themselves a small venture, he’d shown approval at their mission to advance the understanding of the Deaf in the United States.
As a farmer who kept a vast acreage of orchard land, Thor had little time for a day away, but he’d made an exception, expressing to Aven that if his involvement could help others understand his kind better, he would go. If it could benefit future generations of Deaf children to be less misunderstood—perhaps their own son or daughter included—he would commit to the procedure. A noble choice since neither Thor nor Aven had been certain how blood was drawn.
She had heard of bloodletting before—of a physician making an incision in a patient’s vein. Might the process be similar? Thor had concurred, and the summons declared the research a most promising endeavor. For that, he had been willing to brave even this unknown. Participation also offered a small cash compensation for travel, and while the three dollars was generous, Thor would have come regardless.
After stepping down the narrow hallway of the passenger car, they were led to a private compartment where a makeshift office boasted organized chaos. Two cushioned benches faced one another in snug fashion with a medic chest resting on the far end of one. Beside it sat a lap desk that lay flung open to reveal papers, some of which were piled across the seat. Just beneath the window overlooking winterbrown hills hung a small table, folded down from the wall and braced level with a bracket beneath. The narrow surface supported a basin of water and folded towel. Just below stood an icebox of polished oak.
“Do come in, please.” The doctor motioned for them to be seated.
“Thank you, sir,” Aven said as Thor moved to the bench opposite the cluttered one.
Thor waited for her to sit, then took the place beside her. His grip on her hand never
wavered. If she wasn’t mistaken, it grew firmer. Strong and strapping, Thor kept two knives on him at all times and could land a stag from four hundred yards with a rifle. He’d survived ruthless fistfights and even endured a marginal stabbing. But the process of his blood being offered up had him tenser than the springs of the cushioned bench beneath them. Though nervous herself, Aven gave his fingers a squeeze of comfort.
“I understand this is rather unusual.” Dr. Kent rummaged through his wares. “But due to the nature of the study and the varied locations of the participants, I find it easiest to conduct the interview here as opposed to setting up an office in each town visited.”
Accustomed to speaking on Thor’s behalf with strangers, Aven looked to her husband and, sensing his lack of concern, offered such assurance to the doctor. “’Tis just fine here, thank you.”
The doctor handed over an envelope with the payment. Thor pressed it into his shirt pocket, followed by the folded letter from the bureau.
Medical tools glinted in the late-afternoon light when Dr. Kent opened a drawer. “There are several other physicians assisting with the program across the East. I am overseeing the regions of Tennessee, Virginia, and most of Kentucky. Your participation in the study, Mr. Norgaard, is most appreciated.”
Thor’s brown eyes didn’t waver from the man’s face as he spoke.
“First we’ll begin the interview, then proceed from there.” He lifted a blank form from a satchel. Thor’s name was already written on top along with the location of their farm in Botetourt County. A fountain pen was uncapped and the date added to the top of the paper. The doctor signed his name at the bottom, then touched the pen tip beside the first question. “Tell me, Mr. Norgaard. Were either of your parents Deaf?”
Thor shook his head.
“What is your nationality of origin?”
Thor’s hand moved in a blur as he fingerspelled the answer. N-O-R-W-E-G-I-A-N.
“Forgive me, I’m not well trained with Sign Language. If you’ll do that again slowly . . .”
Thor formed the answer once more, this time molding each letter with his hand in unhurried procession.
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