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Greyfox Press
Dark Enough to See the Stars in a Jamestown Sky
Dark Enough to See the Stars in a Jamestown Sky
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“Do not forget us.” Haunted by a woman’s voice whispering these words from the dusty records, Connie Lapallo sought to discover why her grandmother Joan brought a daughter and joined the few women and children settling Jamestown in 1609. Inspired by their courage, Lapallo tells their stories with compassion and historical accuracy.
******
Prosperity in Virginia sounded promising. Then Joan learned she would have to leave a daughter behind in England. Even that she could bear. But a hurricane at sea, the Starving Time, Indian wars—life at Jamestown in 1609 was nothing like she imagined.
DARK ENOUGH TO SEE THE STARS IN A JAMESTOWN SKY is the first in a trilogy based on the true story of the women and children at Jamestown, Virginia. DARK ENOUGH covers the years 1592-1611. The second novel, WHEN THE MOON HAS NO MORE SILVER, follows the story from 1610 to 1620. The second book is soon-to-be released.
EXCERPT:
The Queen’s head was tilted upward, her eyes to the afternoon sun. For a moment—just a moment—she dropped her eyes toward me. I stood transfixed. I remembered seeing hatred in a brave’s eyes, but how much more poignant were these eyes filled with grief.
She does not mourn her own death, but that of her children, I thought. In that brief melding of gazes, we were neither white nor red, English nor Paspahegh. We were but two mothers.
Would that I knew a native word for grief or sorrow, but, alas, I did not. Yet I understood a mother’s heart. As Annie Laydon said, the men folk fight and the women folk bear the brunt. This woman had borne the burden of war between her people and my own and had paid the highest price any mother can pay—her children. My eyes filled with tears for her loss, and for the loss of all the children and all the mothers from these wars.
No, I had no word for sorrow, but I lifted my fist to my heart and let the tear run down my cheek. Your sorrow, my sorrow. We are both women, and we are both mothers.
In return, she gave the barest of nods, an acknowledgement. Yes, it said, thank you.
She had allowed me to share her concealed grief. She then turned her eyes upward to the sun once more—lest any soldier think her afraid or that she was any less warrior than they themselves were. I knew she would not cry out upon her death—natives never did.
******
Prosperity in Virginia sounded promising. Then Joan learned she would have to leave a daughter behind in England. Even that she could bear. But a hurricane at sea, the Starving Time, Indian wars—life at Jamestown in 1609 was nothing like she imagined.
DARK ENOUGH TO SEE THE STARS IN A JAMESTOWN SKY is the first in a trilogy based on the true story of the women and children at Jamestown, Virginia. DARK ENOUGH covers the years 1592-1611. The second novel, WHEN THE MOON HAS NO MORE SILVER, follows the story from 1610 to 1620. The second book is soon-to-be released.
EXCERPT:
The Queen’s head was tilted upward, her eyes to the afternoon sun. For a moment—just a moment—she dropped her eyes toward me. I stood transfixed. I remembered seeing hatred in a brave’s eyes, but how much more poignant were these eyes filled with grief.
She does not mourn her own death, but that of her children, I thought. In that brief melding of gazes, we were neither white nor red, English nor Paspahegh. We were but two mothers.
Would that I knew a native word for grief or sorrow, but, alas, I did not. Yet I understood a mother’s heart. As Annie Laydon said, the men folk fight and the women folk bear the brunt. This woman had borne the burden of war between her people and my own and had paid the highest price any mother can pay—her children. My eyes filled with tears for her loss, and for the loss of all the children and all the mothers from these wars.
No, I had no word for sorrow, but I lifted my fist to my heart and let the tear run down my cheek. Your sorrow, my sorrow. We are both women, and we are both mothers.
In return, she gave the barest of nods, an acknowledgement. Yes, it said, thank you.
She had allowed me to share her concealed grief. She then turned her eyes upward to the sun once more—lest any soldier think her afraid or that she was any less warrior than they themselves were. I knew she would not cry out upon her death—natives never did.
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