Cassie Ramsey's nightmares are ruining her life. She left her birthplace of New Orleans and moved to Washington State in an effort to escape the mysterious past that has haunted her all her life. Abandoned as a child, she knows nothing about her parents. She knows only of her dreams-dreams that forcefully tug her away from her husband and daughter. Cassie can't fight it any longer. She has to go back. Forty years before, a cruel shipping magnate named Bernard Moody raised two daughters, Margaret and Esther, in New Orleans. The sisters were bound for tragedy. When they fell in love with the same man, one sister was willing to do anything to get what she wanted, but what she wanted threatened to rip the already fragile Moody family apart. When Cassie finds out about these women and their unloving father, she is driven to uncover the truth about them. As she watches her own family fade away on account of her morbid obsession, the Moody family's past could turn out to be her future. Is digging up the past worth ruining the future? Cassie must make this decision on her own as she searches for her heritage and the ghosts that haunt her dreams.

Broken Branches

By Virginia L. White

Abbott Press

Copyright © 2012 Virginia L. White
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4582-0292-5

Chapter One

The Dreamer

November 22, 1980

Cassie Ramsey rushed out of the house and into the cool, crisp morning, paused on the porch, and turned to shout orders to her husband, Richard. "Watch out for Trisha! Make sure she doesn't forget her homework, and make sure she wears a warm coat!" She let the door slam over her last words. In no time at all, she was in the car and was on her way to work.

Cassie and her husband lived in Mason County, Washington, with their six-year-old daughter, Trisha Marie. Their home stood at the southwestern tip of Puget Sound, with the Cascade Mountains on the horizon. Puget Sound held water from the Pacific Coast to provide a port for oceangoing ships from Seattle, Tacoma, and Olympia. This peaceful waterfront had been home to the Ramsey family since their move from New Orleans before Trisha was born.

This particular morning, Cassie could not concentrate on the beauty of her surroundings. Her mind was wandering as she drove to the local high school where she taught English. She recalled the reason they had moved here from New Orleans because that reason still haunted her very existence. "I miss the old place," she said aloud, heaving a sigh as she thought about the place where she had grown up. Her life, as far back as she could remember, had been riddled with the unrelenting persistence to learn about her heritage, and recurring nightmares continued to plague her restless nights.

"You're obsessed with digging up the roots of your past!" Richard often accused her. "I thought moving to Washington would solve everything—the constant nightmares that leave you empty and tormented ... and what about that insane desire to claim your biological identity? You're obsessed with your biology! Why can't you just appreciate who you are, Cassie? Maybe then your nightmares would stop."

"You've always known how I feel about that!" she would argue.

"All the same," he'd persist, "you need to let go, Cassie. If anything, the problem has only intensified. You're obsessed, woman, and even after we've been settled here in Washington for over eight years, nothing has changed. We know it just isn't going to go away. Apparently I am helpless to do anything about that. Why can no one seem to help? Not any of those so-called doctors I keep dragging you to see. Your obsession with your past is going to destroy this family. It's stealing precious time away from me and Trisha."

Cassie suddenly slammed on the brakes, interrupting her train of thought as she swerved to miss an oncoming car. Shaking, she pulled off the road. When the car came to a full stop, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She tried, but she couldn't let go of the past. She could feel the goose bumps creeping across her flesh.

Henry Porter and his wife, Gwen, had adopted Cassie as an infant. Even though she had questioned her parents periodically about how she came to be adopted, they had always been reluctant to discuss the details with her. She could remember one afternoon—she was five years old at the time—when she walked in the house unexpectedly and saw her mother and father sitting at the kitchen table totally engrossed in a conversation, unaware of her presence.

"Maybe we should have been honest with Cassie to begin with." Her father had sighed, taking her mother's hand in his.

He looks so sad, Cassie had thought at the time. Without another word, they both turned to stare at her, looking a little frightened. Cassie couldn't explain what was going on that day, but she could read the fear written all over both her parents' faces.

Henry Porter was killed in a boating accident when Cassie was just six years old. She could remember very little about her father. He had been gentle and kind, and he had loved to play with her. He always made room for her, regardless of how busy he was at the time. He made her laugh with all kinds of silliness, such as letting her "honk the horn" until his nose turned red, or pretending he couldn't see her and then looking surprised when she approached him. The thing she remembered most was his loud, hearty laugh as he swung her high in the air until she was dizzy and unable to stand on her feet when he finally put her down.

"I'll never forget the feel of those strong, safe arms holding me, and that hearty laugh," she repeatedly shared with her mother. Cassie and her mother were very close. Gwen had always been supportive, but she was also always equally evasive whenever Cassie questioned her about her biological parents. Gwen always turned a deaf ear and claimed to know nothing about them. Although Cassie had no reason to disbelieve her mother, curiosity would always rear its ugly head and get the better of her.

She started up the car and continued on her way to work.

Back at the house, Richard was pouring his second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. "I was on my way to the grocery store," Gwen greeted him. "I thought you might need me to pick up some things for Cassie's birthday party tonight."

"Now, Gwen," he reminded her, "Trisha has insisted on doing everything herself. So if it turns out to be a disaster, it's no big deal. I promised to let her do all the planning and the decorating. But here is a list that I will swear I know nothing about, just in case!" He grinned. "I'm not saying the child can't get carried away when she's left on her own, but we both know how high-strung and sensitive she's always been. It doesn't take a lot to get her wound up, especially when she's in cahoots with that imaginary friend of hers, Nomed."

"No problem! My lips are sealed," Gwen said, placing a finger to her lips as a gesture of cooperation as she grabbed a chair and planted herself at the kitchen table. "Now, how about a cup of that coffee? I didn't come empty handed," she said, setting a grease-spotted brown paper bag down on the table in front of him. "I got doughnuts! Just the kind you like—chocolate with raspberry filling. Although I never could understand why you like those mushy filled things. Give me the old powdered sugar–covered cake doughnuts any day."

"That's just because they remind you of beignets," Richard reasoned, reaching in the bag for a doughnut. He took a bite and uttered a sigh of contentment while the jellylike substance oozed from the corners of his mouth.

Gwen was a very outspoken woman. Cassie, Richard, and Trisha were the only family she had or needed. They were a close-knit family and spent a lot of time together. She never found it difficult to speak what was on her mind at any given time. Richard loved that about his mother-in-law and saw it as a positive trait. "I always know where I stand when it comes to my mother-in–law," he was often heard to say.

While Richard poured more coffee, Gwen propped one elbow on the table, supporting her head with her hand as she crossed her legs and continued to chatter on aimlessly between bites of doughnut. "Speaking of Trisha, you do spoil that child you know," she commented.

"Listen to the pot calling the kettle black!" he fired back.

"Yeah, but that's my job, Richard. Your job is to make sure she grows up to be a responsible adult. And mine is to make your job harder and enjoy just being Grandma." She grinned over at him, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. Richard was about to sit down with another cup of coffee when they heard a loud crash from the living room.

"It's okay!" Trisha shouted from the next room. "I...