I was the little nerdette with a library card in my kindergarten hand, reading the kiddie books and planning what I would write. Come college time accounting seemed a more certain way to bring in a dollar so journalism was a minor. Writing was put on the back burner while dollars were made and kids and parents were raised, however, reading was always on the front burner. Probably my biggest influences would be Susan Howatch, Diana Gabaldon and Margaret Mitchell. A conversation with my husband 20 years earlier about suicide vs. murder percolated in the back of my mind and then announced it wanted to be written. I obeyed and out came The Doctor’s Daughter: Journey to Justice. The history of Nashville during the Civil War is just so interesting and so important at that time but most people won’t sit down with a history book so I sneaked the history and the antebellum law and medicine in with a good story. The story continues with a second book, The Doctor’s Daughter: The Choice.
Excerpt from The Doctor’s Daughter: Journey to Justice
Curiosity got the best of me. I just had to know. “Is it true you cut up dead people for practice?”
He seemed entertained by the question. “Yes, that’s true.”
I turned toward him. “Where do you get them?”
“I don’t know. It’s against the law to dig people up but there is no law against importing bodies from somewhere else. They arrive at the school in some odd packages. You never know what you are going to find when a crate or big bag arrives. So we just don’t ask any questions.”
“I really enjoy the surgery on live people much more. I was one of hundreds who got to watch a brain tumor being removed recently.”
I had no idea what the appropriate response to seeing a brain tumor removed would be so I sat silently, watching the familiar buildings go by as we got closer to town. I spoke this time. “So why did you go to the bee and why did you invite me tonight?”
“The usual reasons,” he said with a hook on the end, like I was asking a redundant question.
“What usual reasons?”
“The same reason any other man would. You understand.”
“Actually no, I don’t,” I said sharply, fearing what he was going to say, wondering what horrible things he had presumed of me, perhaps making assumptions due to my notoriety.